Challenges by Amy B
Table of Contents [Report This]
Crossover: Highlander/ Pretender/ Picket Fences/
an itty bit of Due South
Disclaimer: Most of these characters are the property
of others (too numerous to mention even if I did know). No
copyright infringement intended.
Rating: NC-17
Big thank you to Carolyn for being brave enough to beta(all
mistakes are still mine). Thanks also to Jo and my RSM sisters,
Diana and mouse, who long ago said "post it".
Note: This is actually a sequel to a story that needs
too much work to ever post (one of my first pieces of Fanfic
ever). All you really need to know is that Jarod is Immortal
(after being killed in a robbery where Duncan MacLeod and his
lover "Adam Pierson" were present--I did Pop-Tarts before the
show did! ;-). When he left Seacouver, Rich went with him to
kind of help him out with the Immortality thing (I'm sure
attraction had nothing to do with it. Yeah right. ;-)
This is a total A/U—-making no effort to follow the continuity of
any of the shows borrowed here. But it was started *before*
the Pretender ep. "Bank" where Mr. Fennigor turned up.
Challenges
By Amy B
Jarod pulled his motorcycle into the parking lot of a small diner
on the outskirts of Rome, Wisconsin. He dismounted slowly and
took off his helmet. Stretching his weary muscles, he thought that
last hundred miles had seemed like a thousand.
"Hey, man, are you sure this is the right place?" Jarod turned
and looked over at Richie Ryan who had dismounted his own
bike and now looked around with a bemused expression. "This
town is like Mayberry or something. Why would Fennigor be
here?"
"Well Rich, that's what we have to find out. Now, are you
hungry or-" Jarod broke off abruptly, smacked his forehead with
his open palm and laughed. "What was I thinking? Of course
you're hungry!"
"Laugh it up, smart boy. You eat at least as much junk as I do,"
Richie returned with a grin. "Living with Mac for six weeks must
have been hell for you."
The two Immortals went into the diner as they continued the
teasing. They took seats at a booth by the window as Jarod
said, "I think I did finally convince him that Pez has nutritional
value. Was he so strict when you lived with him?"
Richie studied his menu for a minute then replied, "He tried, but
Tessa was much more understanding of a teenager's need for
junk food and a lot of it."
Sadness flashed briefly through his blue eyes but, before Jarod
could comment, the waitress came to take their orders.
The two men ate in a comfortable silence. Jarod finally spoke
again as they finished their blue-plate specials and contemplated
dessert. "You must really miss her...Tessa."
"She was a good friend. I guess she gave me a lot of the
mothering I would have sworn that I didn't need. So, yeah, I
miss her. I probably always will, at least a little bit."
"I know what missing someone is like. That's why we have to
find Mr. Fennigor. I am certain he can tell me where my family is
or at least where I came from." Jarod glanced out the window
and lowered his voice. "I don't care if I was adopted. They are
my family, and I will find them."
"I believe you will, buddy. You've got more determination than
anyone I've ever seen." Richie grinned to lighten the suddenly
somber mood. "Come on. Let's get going. This town probably
closes up at sundown."
Richie went to the restroom while Jarod paid his bill and stepped
outside. His head snapped up as he felt the Presence of another
Immortal. He knew it could be Rich, but he hadn't been gone
very long, and it was better to be prepared. He looked around
to pinpoint the source of the Buzz as he moved toward his bike
for his sword.
A tall dark man climbed out of a Chevy Blazer a few parking
spaces away. He came toward Jarod with a calculating smile.
He stopped barely five feet away and gave a courtly bow. "I am
Max Kritschgau. Shall we adjourn to a more private place?"
"My name is Jarod, but I have no quarrel with you. I really don't
want to have to kill you." Jarod figured a façade of calm
confidence would mask his frantic heartbeat. He had been
taught by the best and continued to train hard with Richie every
day, but this was his first real challenge. He couldn't help but be
apprehensive when the stakes were so high.
"You have to face my challenge...or run away. But know this, if
you run, I'll just come after you anyway. So why don't you save
us both the trouble, hmm? There's an abandoned barn a couple
of miles down that road," he said as he pointed at the gravel farm
road that joined the highway in front of the diner. "You have ten
minutes." He turned and walked back to his truck as Richie
came out to stand with Jarod.
"Who's that? Did he challenge you?"
"Max Kritschgau. Ever hear of him?" Rich shook his head, and
Jarod continued, "Yes, well, I'm to meet him in ten minutes at an
abandoned barn."
Jarod spoke calmly, but Richie could see the turmoil in his
friend's eyes. He remembered facing Annie Devlin in his first
challenge and being unable to follow through and take her head.
He put a hand on the taller man's shoulder and quietly said, "You
don't have to meet him if you're not ready. We can leave town
and come back when it's safer. You know what Adam would
say, don't you?"
"Live, grow stronger, and fight another day," they said together
like a well-rehearsed chorus.
"I know, Rich, I know. But I have to face my first challenge
sometime. He said he would hunt me if I don't fight him today."
Jarod smiled slightly. "I have enough to do just keeping ahead of
the Centre. I don't need anybody else after me."
"If you're sure, then let's go. But only if you're absolutely sure."
Richie climbed onto his motorcycle and prepared to leave.
Grabbing his arm, Jarod said, "No, I'll go alone. You know the
rules. One on one." When Richie would have protested, Jarod
shook his arm a little and turned him loose before continuing, "I
have to do this. You won't always be here. I have to do this
myself...see if I can, anyway. Besides that, I need you to hold
the DSA's for me. I don't want to know what a Quickening
would do to my computer."
Richie took the silver Halliburton case with an unreadable
expression then said, "Fine, go ahead. I understand."
Jarod attempted to lighten the mood with a bit of morbid humor.
"Hey, if I don't come back, you also get my Pez collection."
"You can be one sick puppy, you know," Richie groaned. "You
better go. Don't want to be late."
As soon as Jarod was out of sight down the country road, Richie
followed along behind. When he figured he was close to his
destination, he pulled over to the side of the road and hid the
bike behind some bushes. He set off on foot careful to stay out
of sensing range.
Kritschgau stood in the entrance of the dilapidated structure
holding a cavalry saber at his side. "I do so appreciate
punctuality, Jarod." He moved back into the open sun dappled
interior of the barn, motioning for Jarod to follow.
Jarod moved forward with his blade at the ready but stopped
short of attacking. The combatants circled looking for
weaknesses, for openings...
Suddenly, Kritschgau lunged, aiming a powerful blow at Jarod's
head. Jarod blocked the blow, and the fight was on.
Richie tried to watch from his hiding place in the trees across the
road, but the two fighters kept moving in and out of his field of
vision. He was about to leave his concealment to find a better
vantage point when he heard the sound of a car coming. In a
colossal case of bad timing, Jarod and Kritschgau tumbled out
into the open just as the sheriff's car rounded the curve.
The two opponents were locked in battle so furious that the car's
arrival went unnoticed until the blue lights flashed and a loud
voice called out, "This is the Police! Put down your weapons!"
Muffling a curse, Richie faded further into the trees. He
wondered if he had enough money for bail then shrugged. "Ah,
well, if not, Jarod either has it or can get it. Guy's a miracle
worker at getting out of tight spots."
Jarod moved a safe distance from his opponent before lowering
his sword slowly to the ground and looking at the officers
cautiously approaching. The older one wore a sheriff's badge
and a seen-it-all expression. The deputy was a few steps ahead
with his gun held stiffly out in front, covering both suspects. The
sheriff left his weapon holstered but unsnapped the strap and
kept his hand close by.
"I sure hope you fellows have a good explanation for this,"
Sheriff Brock said with a sigh. "You-" he motioned at
Kritschgau "-move away from the sword."
While Deputy Lacos covered him, Sheriff Brock cuffed
Kritschgau first and then moved over to Jarod. Holding his
hands out, Jarod asked what the charge was.
"We'll figure it out at the station. Now come along." He led
Jarod over to the car while the deputy holstered his gun and led
Kritschgau over to the other side.
On the trip into town, Jarod asked the question that had puzzled
him since the officers first pulled up to the barn. "Sheriff, may I
ask you something? Why were you not surprised to come
across two men sword fighting?"
"Well, after the Dancing Bandit became mayor and several
incidents of death by kitchen appliances, nothing much surprises
me. And after you've appeared in court, you'll understand even
better," the sheriff replied as Deputy Lacos nodded his
agreement.
Jarod pondered that answer as he turned slightly to glance out
the back window. He was relieved to see a familiar figure
following along at a respectable distance. He turned back
secure that this time he wasn't alone. He hoped that Rich was
taking good care of the Halliburton.
Kritschgau, who had remained silent, now leaned toward Jarod
and spoke too low for the lawmen to hear. "This doesn't relieve
you of the challenge. We will meet again."
Jarod nodded, resigned to the facts of his new life.
________________________________________
Richie rode into the small town of Rome just behind the Sheriff's
car, but when it parked in front of the jail, he kept on going. A
half a block down the street, he pulled into a parking spot next to
a pay phone. He watched Jarod being led into the building then
reached for the phone book dangling by its chain. Now Richie
was sure this was Mayberry. The directory was present and
intact.
Flipping quickly to the yellow pages, he found the listings for
attorneys. His eye was immediately caught by a half page
advertisement reading "Wambaugh for The Defense." The
address listed was just across the street from the jail, so he left
his bike and walked over.
A cute brunette about his apparent age greeted Richie at the
lawyer's office. He flashed his brightest lady killer smile and
said, "Hi, I'm Richard Ryan. Is Mr. Wambaugh in?"
"We were just about to close for the day. I don't suppose you
have an appointment?" The girl seemed oddly amused, instead
of inconvenienced.
"Well, no. But this is sort of an emergency." This time, instead
of the grin, he tried the hopeful earnest puppy dog look that had
also been moderately successful with the ladies.
"Of course, it is. I'll see if he can see you." She smiled and left
the small reception area. Richie stared after her with a goofy
look on his face. She was gone just long enough for him to
recover his cool.
"Mr. Wambaugh will see you now. Go right on in." She
motioned him through the door into the inner office.
"Thanks...I'm sorry. I didn't get your name?"
"Kimberly Brock." She shook the hand he held out.
"Nice meeting you, Kimberly. Maybe I'll see you again while I'm
in town," said Richie. Kimberly, sensing a bit of diffidence in
what was on the surface an invitation, just smiled and gently shut
the door in his face.
"Better watch out for that one. Her father's the sheriff. Well,
don't just stand there. Come over, sit."
Richie turned to look for the source of the comment. An older
man sat behind a big old wooden desk wearing a tweed suit and
a bow tie. He looked too much like someone's grandpa for
Richie to imagine him as the bloodthirsty shark that lawyers are
supposed to be.
Richie sat down, introduced himself, and said, "Sorry to come in
so late. This is kind of an odd case..."
"I'm a character. Odd cases are my specialty. What did you
do?" Wambaugh leaned forward interestedly.
"It wasn't me. My friend was picked up just a little while ago
for...sword fighting."
"Wonderful! This I can work with! Give me his name and I'll
call and get the details."
"His name is Jarod...Hopper." Good grief! thought
Richie. Why did I insist on showing Jarod 'Easy Rider'?
"I think it was the sheriff that took him in. I don't know if he's
even been charged yet, but we've gotta get him out of there. He
can't stand being locked up."
"Don't worry, I'm on it. Go talk to Kimberly about fees and
such," the lawyer said making a shooing motion toward the door.
________________________________________
Jarod paced from one side of the cell to the other. It only took
three steps to do this, but it was something to do. He was glad
he had left his extensive collection of identification in the
computer case with Rich. He could just imagine what the sheriff
would have thought if Jarod had given his current name when he
had proof of so many other names and occupations. All those
fake badges would have certainly caused trouble. Maybe he
should have tried to use one of the law enforcement ID's to get
out of this mess. He could have claimed to be undercover for the
DEA or maybe the FBI. The sword might have taken a little
explaining...
He let out a sigh and took another trip across the cell. Step step
step, turn, step step step, turn. Ever since escaping from the
Centre, Jarod had thrived on sunshine and wide-open spaces.
Now he was right back where he started. At least here, there
were no video cameras constantly recording his every move.
He could see Kritschgau across the way in the other cell. The
Immortal appeared to be sleeping rather soundly. Being arrested
didn't seem to worry him any. Jarod thought it must happen a lot
for the man to be so blasé about being locked up. Jarod
shuddered a little and continued his pacing, wishing Rich would
hurry up and get him out of here.
He thought again how comforting it was to know that he wasn't
alone this time. It felt good to have a friend. Sometimes he
thought of Sydney as a friend, and he had certainly helped Jarod
out with inside information from the Centre. But, then again,
Jarod had reciprocated in spite of his lingering anger and
resentment over being held at the Centre and Sydney's part in it.
Although the emotional baggage was full to overflowing
sometimes, Sydney was still the closest thing to a father that
Jarod had ever known.
Rich, on the other hand, was a true friend-- probably Jarod's
closest since childhood. They were equals with no baggage
between them. Although Jarod was several years older than
Richie, Rich had been Immortal longer. Rich also had more
experience with certain aspects of life--like getting out of
jail-- in the outside world than Jarod did. Jarod also found it
very reassuring to have someone that he didn't have to pretend
with. Rich knew all about Jarod's past yet Jarod didn't feel
threatened by that knowledge. He actually trusted Rich, and trust
was not something that came easily to Jarod.
The closeness of their relationship made Jarod feel warm and
almost safe. He occasionally had doubts about what kind of
friend he was to Richie. But then Rich would give him a grin and
a pat on the back, and Jarod would feel okay again. He shook
his head at the mushy direction his thoughts were taking, then
stopped his pacing as he felt the approach of another Immortal.
A pretty red-haired deputy escorted Richie into the passageway
between the cells then took up position in front of the door. She
frowned and said sternly, "I'll be watching so don't try anything."
Richie gave her a distracted smile and hurried over to Jarod's
cell. He darted a look over at Kritschgau who had woken when
he felt Richie's approaching Presence. He grasped the bars in
front of Jarod and whispered, "Hey, man. How are you holding
up?"
Jarod smiled. "Better now that you're here. Get me out of here,
please."
"I've got a lawyer working on it, but it's nearly six o'clock, and
this is a very small town. They might let you go if you guys both
say you were only fencing, not fighting. Or you could claim to be
a collector or a dealer. That always works for Mac." Rich
glanced back at the other cell. "He's not giving you any trouble,
is he?"
"No, he's been sleeping or ignoring me. I just want to get out of
here. The walls are closing in on me." Jarod was trying to be
stoic but a bit of his inner panic showed in his wide brown eyes.
Richie stepped closer and reached one hand through the bars to
rub Jarod's shoulder. He tried to reassure his friend. "I know,
buddy, I know. Mr. Wambaugh--that's the lawyer--is working
on getting you cut loose. Listen, even if we don't get this cleared
up tonight, I'm sure we'll be out on the open road in no time.
Just think about that, okay? Putting your bike on the highway
and opening up the throttle...the speed and the wind and the
freedom... It's just like flying, isn't it?"
Jarod swallowed hard and felt a faint blush start up his cheeks as
Rich's words caused an interesting physical reaction. This
arousal was unexpected. Jarod had never found riding his
motorcycle to be a particularly erotic experience, so he
concluded that it must be Rich who evoked these feelings.
Jarod considered his limited sexual experience, which had been
with a woman, and tried to apply that to Rich. He found it
surprisingly easy to accept the attraction, but decided that a small
town jail was not the place to analyze his feelings and the
constrictions that society might try to place on them. He pulled
back from the hand caressing his shoulder and began to pace
again, trying to keep his body turned slightly away from Richie so
the other man wouldn't notice how tight his jeans had become.
He looked over to see Rich staring at him; hand still outstretched
through the bars. He tried to smile, but it just didn't work. "Um,
thanks. I'll try that. But there's still Fennigor to find--"
"No problem. I'll work on that, too."
"Be very discreet."
Cocking his head, Richie gave Jarod a 'get real' look. "I think I
can be discreet."
Jarod chuckled and said, "Yeah, I guess you have to be."
"Time's up!"
Both men jumped at the intrusion as they had totally forgotten
that the deputy was there. As the deputy led him away, Rich
said, "Just stay cool, okay? I'll take care of everything!"
Turning away from the closing door, Jarod saw the knowing
smirk on Kritschgau's face. Although he had his body back
under control, that look made Jarod start blushing all over again.
To cover his embarrassment, he narrowed his eyes and snapped,
"What? Go ahead and say it."
"It's amusing to me how you young ones get so worked up over
the smallest things. I can't tell which one of you is more innocent.
Hmmm, probably you. The boy has an earthy quality that
suggests a slightly more varied experience. Although it is hard to
tell sometimes. Still waters and all that."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You should. You want him. I don't blame you really. He is
cute in a puppyish sort of way My own tastes have quite
expanded over the last couple of centuries. There once was a
time I wouldn't have given a man a second look, except to kill
him, of course. Now the killing is still the best part, but there are
so many other pleasures to be had. Too bad you won't
have time to find out about them." Kritschgau shrugged.
"Maybe I'll give him a try after I dispatch you. Of course, I'll
have to kill him afterward...unless he's really good."
"You leave him alone!" Jarod growled as protective instincts
blended with jealous rage. "You challenged me, and I will fight
you, but you leave him out of this. If you do manage to take my
head, Rich will take yours."
"We'll see." Lying back on his bunk, Kritschgau began plotting
his escape.
________________________________________
Jarod was sleeping fitfully, dreaming of the Centre, when some
unidentified noise woke him. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed a hand
over his face trying to wake up fully. He realized that the
commotion was coming from the other cell just as he also
realized that he couldn't feel Kritschgau's Presence any more.
He stood and walked over to the bars. The red haired Deputy
Stewart was watching a couple of male deputies wrestling with
something inside the cell. Jarod asked her what was going on.
"Kritschgau hung himself last night," she answered absently.
Then she swung around and looked at Jarod. "What do you
know about this?"
"Nothing. He fell asleep before I did, but he seemed fine to me."
Two EMT's came rushing in with a stretcher. The deputy moved
out of their way, careful not to get too close to Jarod. She
turned back with another question.
"Did he say anything that suggested he was thinking of suicide?"
"No. We didn't talk much, and I really didn't know him."
The deputy's blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Yet you were
fighting with him yesterday. What was that about?"
"I think I'd better wait until my lawyer gets here before making
any statements."
Her attention was drifting back to the activity in the other cell.
She replied distractedly, "That would probably be best. Who's
your lawyer?"
"His name is Wambaugh, I believe."
She turned back to look at Jarod with a resigned smile and
nodded. "I should have known."
Jarod looked over her shoulder at the body being carted out and
sighed. He wondered how this turn of events would affect his
getting out of jail. He thought back over the law books he had
read and decided it should actually help.
________________________________________
Several minutes after Kritschgau's body had been removed,
Deputy Lacos came to escort Jarod to the interview room.
Sheriff Brock and DA John Littleton were chatting quietly when
the deputy brought Jarod in and seated him at the table. The
two men stopped talking and turned to Jarod. The sheriff said
"Mr. Hopper, you understand that since you have not been
formally arrested you don't necessarily need an attorney. We
just need to ask you a few questions to get this situation all
straightened out."
"I understand. But I would like to speak with my attorney, Mr.
Wambaugh, first."
"I'll have someone call him," said Littleton, as he rose and left the
room.
Sheriff Brock and Jarod sat and looked at each other, neither
speaking. A few minutes later, the DA returned with an older
man in tow and said, "He was already on his way over." He
turned to Jarod. "A deputy will be right outside. When you're
ready just knock on the door and then we can get started."
"We'll try to get this wrapped up quickly. I'm sure my client is
innocent and this is all a big mistake." Wambaugh grinned and
made a little shooing motion at the other two men who left
without a backward glance.
"Douglas Wambaugh at your service! Now tell me the story,
Mr. Hopper." He settled at the table and looked interested and
ready to believe--at least in court-- whatever Jarod was going to
say.
"Call me Jarod." Wambaugh nodded, and Jarod continued.
"I'm a sword collector, and Max Kritschgau claimed to have an
antique cavalry saber for sale. So I went to meet him to have a
look at the sword and maybe make an offer. He attacked me,
and I fought back. I didn't know him previously, and I have no
idea why he would commit suicide."
"Ah. A clear case of self-defense. Of course, with your
attacker now in the morgue--apparently from his own hand--
they have no case." Smiling with satisfaction, he leaned back to
knock on the door.
The sheriff and the DA filed in and took their seats. Sheriff
Brock looked over at Littleton, who nodded, then he turned
back to Jarod "Do want to tell us what happened yesterday?"
"Are you going to arrest my client? What are the charges?"
"Doug, that's what we're trying to determine. Since neither of the
participants wanted to press assault charges, the charges would
likely be disturbing the peace and disorderly conduct. But what
we're focusing on right now is what happened to Max
Kritschgau last night."
"He hung himself while my client was safely locked away in his
own cell."
"Why would he hang himself over a couple of misdemeanor
charges that probably wouldn't have amounted to much
anyway?"
"He was obviously unstable. He had already attacked my client
with a very sharp sword. That was attempted murder with Jarod
as the victim, so maybe he thought he was in more trouble than
he was. Maybe he was already suicidal, who knows?"
Wambaugh shrugged. "My client would be glad to tell
you anything else about last night as long as you agree not to
press any charges for the little dust-up with Kritschgau."
Littleton and Brock consulted quietly then agreed. The sheriff
looked Jarod in the eye and asked, "Okay, what did you know
about Max Kritschgau? Did you notice any strange behavior?
Did he show signs of despair or depression or other suicidal
behavior?"
"I had never met the man until yesterday. He claimed to have an
antique sword for sale. I expressed interest. We met to discuss
a possible sale, he attacked, I fought back, and then you showed
up. I didn't notice any suicidal tendencies, but then we really
didn't talk much."
"But you did talk?"
"Well, he made some comments from his cell, and I pretty much
ignored him. He rolled over and went to sleep. A couple hours
later, I went to sleep. The next thing I know, they're carrying his
dead body out. I didn't see or hear anything."
"What kind of comments?"
Jarod looked down at the table and tried to remain calm. When
he looked up at the sheriff, his face was totally expressionless as
he lied, "General philosophy of life comments. I don't remember
anything specific."
The sheriff nodded and glanced at the DA who shrugged and
shook his head looking rather frustrated. He looked back at
Jarod and said, "You gave your address as St. Paul Minnesota,
correct?"
"Yes."
"This is going to sound like an episode of "Gunsmoke", but if you
promise to leave town immediately, we're willing to let this go."
"I do have some business here, but it shouldn't take long. Then I
will be more than happy to leave."
"What business?" asked Sheriff Brock skeptically.
"I'm looking for a man named Fennigor who was a friend of my
parents," Jarod obfuscated as boldly and calmly as ever.
"Fennigor, hmm? I believe he moved to--Was it Chicago,
Doug?-- a couple of months ago. So there's nothing keeping
you here. You're free to go." Sheriff Brock stood, and the other
men followed. "Come to the front desk and you can sign some
papers and get your stuff back."
________________________________________
Jarod walked out into the morning sunshine. Taking a deep
breath, he vowed, in future, to avoid jail at any cost. He saw
Rich coming down the sidewalk and went to meet him. Jarod
caught him up in a spontaneous hug that was briefly, yet warmly,
returned. Both men stepped back quickly and started to
speak, words crashing together. They laughed, then both said,
"You first!"
Richie shook his head and held up one hand. "I got your bike
back. It's in the courthouse parking lot with mine. The best I
could come up with on Fennigor is that he moved to Chicago--
maybe to take a job at some private hospital. Nobody I talked
to was clear on what hospital, and most had no idea what the
man did for a living. Seems he was the quiet type, kept to
himself. Nobody seems to know much about him."
"I can't say that I'm surprised. Sheriff Brock told me about
Chicago, but not why he left." He smiled as they started walking
toward the parking lot. "Thanks for getting my bike. I promised
the Sheriff that I would leave town this morning, and I really
don't want to be around whenever Kritschgau revives."
"No problem, man. I will be glad to see the last of this place."
Richie came closer and lowered his voice. "I heard that they had
a cow give birth to a human baby. That is seriously weird...if it's
even true, of course. It was probably just the locals playing a
joke on an outsider."
"Fascinating." Jarod got that half-smiling-slant-eyed-thinking-
hard-about-something look that Richie had become all too
familiar with.
"Oh, no. Forget I said anything. Let's just get out of here. It's a
long way to Chicago."
Looking over at Richie with a brilliant grin, Jarod thought the
next few days were certainly going to be interesting. He
wondered how he should approach Richie about expanding their
relationship. On the road there would be time to think...and
plan. Although his helmet obscured it, Jarod was again wearing
that saturnine expression that signaled victory at hand.
________________________________________
Sheriff Jimmy Brock sat in his office nursing a headache and
thinking about calling his wife Jill to see if she was free for lunch.
He had just reached for the phone when it rang under his hand.
He picked it up and snapped, "Sheriff Brock."
"Jimmy, this is Carter Pike. Can you come over to the morgue?
We seem to have lost your deceased prisoner."
Rubbing a hand over his face, Jimmy sighed. "Carter, are you
sure the guy was dead in the first place?"
"Make one little mistake and they never let you forget it... Yes,
he was dead! I don't know what happened. I was only gone for
a few minutes. I came back to start the autopsy, and the body
had disappeared. We've looked everywhere. No one saw a
thing." The coroner's voice had become progressively higher
and more defensive.
"I'll be right over." Sheriff Brock hung up the phone and
wondered why he had thought living in a small town would be
peaceful. He reached into his desk drawer for more aspirin as
his office door opened. He looked up at Deputy Lacos and
asked "What is it now, Kenny?"
"Kritschgau's truck is missing from the lot."
"Of course it is. This is Rome. What else should we expect? A
dead man got up off the coroner's table and drove off in his
truck, which we had impounded. Just great."
________________________________________
Jarod and Richie rolled into Chicago some two and a half hours
after leaving Rome. Richie turned into a McDonald's parking lot
and parked. He turned to make sure Jarod had followed then
stood and removed his helmet. He waited for the other man to
do the same then said, "Is this okay with you? I thought we
could have lunch and figure out what to do next."
"Well, we need to find some place to stay first. I don't like
carting my things around with me. Those DSA's are too
important to lose." Jarod spotted the newspaper boxes in front
of the restaurant then turned back to Rich. "You get us a couple
of papers, and I'll get lunch. You want your usual?"
"Yeah, thanks," said Richie as the two men parted ways.
Rich walked up to the counter in time to hear Jarod asking a
bewildered counter girl, "So is the toy a bribe to get the child to
eat the meal...or is it a bribe to get the parents to buy the Happy
Meal in the first place?"
The girl shrugged helplessly and shoved a loaded tray across the
counter. She spotted Richie and chirped, "Welcome to
McDonald's. Can I take your order?"
"No, I'm with him." Rich grinned.
Giving him a sympathetic smile, the girl said, "Try to have a nice
day anyway."
Jarod and Rich settled at a corner table and divided the food and
newspapers. By the time lunch was over, Jarod had decided on
his next identity, and Richie had found a room for them to rent.
After a quick call on Jarod's cell phone, they had an afternoon
appointment to talk to the landlady and look at the apartment.
They got a city map, looked up the address, and headed out to
secure their lodgings.
The apartment turned out to be two rooms above an attached
garage of a house on a quiet tree lined street. The house was a
small, but neat, white frame two-story affair with a well-kept
yard and a rose garden in back. A 60ish silver-haired lady was
sitting in a rocker on the wide front porch sipping iced tea. She
calmly watched as the two men parked their motorcycles and
walked up to the porch.
They stopped a respectful distance from the steps and Rich said,
"Mrs. Kowalski? I'm Richard Ryan. I called about the
apartment." He smiled and tried to look fluffy and harmless,
succeeding easily.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ryan." Her faintly Southern accented
voice was remarkably straight forward when she asked, "Will
your friend be sharing the apartment?" The sharp blue eyes
staring at the boys through bifocals seemed to see straight into
the furthest reaches of their souls.
Jarod shifted and smiled charmingly. "Yes, ma'am. My name is
Jarod. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Kowalski."
"Come on up here and have seat. We'll get acquainted." She
smiled that old lady smile that means an interview is about to
take place. "Iced tea?"
The two men took the offered glasses and settled into rocking
chairs that were angled slightly to face Mrs. Kowalski's.
"If you boys turn out to be serial killers, I'm going to be very
disappointed. Would you like lemon or mint? They're both
fresh."
Jarod smiled and said, "No, thank you" while Rich just stared at
her, finally shaking his head.
"I should also warn you that my nephew is a police detective. I
won't have him run a check on your names, plates, or prints
unless you give me reason. Now tell me about yourselves. Y'all
aren't from Chicago, are you?"
"No, ma'am. I grew up in Delaware, but I've traveled quite a
bit." Jarod was slightly surprised to find himself telling the truth.
"What about you, Richard? I can't really place your accent."
Rich looked at the interested lady and decided to tell the truth
also. "I'm from Washington...Seacouver. But for awhile I raced
motorcycles in Europe."
"That sounds exciting. Why did you stop?"
"Well, I...it got too dangerous. Too many close calls." Like
dying in a public race, but he didn't mention that. "It was a good
excuse to come home. My French was awful."
"I drove a race car for a while. It was sort of a favor for a
friend. You're right, Mrs. Kowalski. It was very exciting."
"Did you stop because of the danger as well?"
Jarod looked surprised at the question and replied, "No, I wasn't
needed anymore."
Mrs. Kowalski noticed a flash of sadness on Richard's face
before he turned to look out at the silent street. She wasn't quite
sure if he felt sad for Jarod or himself or something else entirely.
She decided to rent the apartment to the two men even though
she still didn't know much about them.
"I'll need the first month's rent and a two hundred dollar security
deposit. Utilities are included." She smiled sweetly. "I would
prefer cash, but that can wait until I show you the apartment."
She stood and escorted Jarod and Richie down the steps and
around to the side of the garage where a sturdy wooden
staircase led up to the apartment door.
The tour of the apartment was brief. The front room was a
combination living/dining room and kitchen with a love seat,
dinette, and the standard appliances. There was one bedroom
with a queen size bed and matching cherry dresser and one small
closet. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and included a
gorgeous old claw foot tub big enough for two.
Jarod and Rich consulted and discussed before finally deciding
to take the apartment since they wouldn't be in town for very
long anyway. They paid Mrs. Kowalski and received their keys.
As she was leaving, she told them to come around to the house
later so they could carry the TV and VCR back up to the
apartment. Fearing burglary of the empty apartment, she had
moved them out after the last tenant had left.
"If you want to get to work, I'll go get some groceries and stuff
and pick up the TV." Rich looked toward the bedroom then
back at Jarod. "We can work out sleeping arrangements later."
Jarod was already on his way to the door. "That sounds fine.
Could you get some Twinkies and Pop Tarts?"
"Dude, haven't we been together everyday for a couple of
months? I think I can remember the basics." Rich grinned as
they went down the stairs.
"Yeah," Jarod sighed and went for his computer case. He turned
to Rich who was untying his duffel bag. "Just leave your things.
I'll carry them up for you."
"Thanks. I'll be back later."
Jarod watched him go, then turned and gathered up the modest
pile of possessions.
________________________________________
Richie came back with the groceries and found Jarod at work at
the dining table. He had apparently showered and changed
clothes. Rich asked about his progress in finding Fennigor while
he put away the groceries.
"I'm getting close. Once I find the hospital, getting on staff
shouldn't be too difficult. I've done it before, just have to get the
credentials right. I might not even have to do that at all. In fact, it
might be more effective to approach him as myself."
"You amaze me sometimes. You're so matter-of-fact about the
whole pretending thing. I don't see--" Rich broke off and shook
his head feeling vaguely unsettled. "I'm gonna go see Mrs.
Kowalski now, okay?" He left quickly thinking how easily Jarod
had come to trust him during all those spars and workouts at
Mac's dojo. Rich knew that Jarod had been essentially alone
after he escaped the Centre, not unlike Richie before he met
Mac and Tessa. But Jarod seemed more desperately in need of
a friend than Richie ever was.
He walked around to the front door and rang the bell. The
landlady opened the door and asked him in. The television was
nice 20-inch model, and Rich could see he would have to come
back for the VCR. He shrugged and figured what the hell,
not like I've got anything better to do today. Aloud he
said, "Thank you, Mrs. Kowalski. I'll be right back."
He took the TV upstairs and plugged it in. It worked okay, so
he went for the VCR and found a multicolored stack of plastic
food containers on top of it. Mrs. Kowalski smiled and said, "I'll
bet you and your fella haven't been eating well lately."
Richie almost choked while she went blithely on, "I know how
young men can be, eating junk food and paying not one bit of
attention to nutrition. Well, I had some leftovers from last night's
supper--my nephew Ray and his friend Benton were over but
had to leave on some sort of police business before I could wrap
up the leftovers to send home with them." She sighed. "That Ray
is so skinny, I just know he doesn't eat enough. Benton has
been a good influence, but my nephew can be so stubborn."
She shook her head and said, "Oh, listen to me. You get on
back to your fella and just heat everything in the microwave
when you get hungry. Now I just made the cornbread, so it's
probably still warm. Oh, do you need some butter? Let me get
you some..."
Richie watched her bustle off to the kitchen feeling a little shell-
shocked. "Did she call Jarod my 'fella'?" He whispered to
himself. "Twice?"
Mrs. Kowalski came back with a small plastic butter dish and
Richie stammered out, "I'm not...well, I am but...but Jarod,
he's...he's just so--" he broke off as he felt himself start to blush.
He finally cleared his throat and said calmly, "Jarod is not my
'fella'."
"Oh. Well. Do you want him to be?" Her smile was kind, but
her eyes twinkled with mischief.
"No! Well, maybe...I don't know." He gathered up the VCR
and containers and started for the door. "Thanks for dinner.
We'll bring the dishes back tomorrow morning."
"No hurry. You just enjoy your evening, all right Richard? And
remember, safety first." She shut the door before he could reply,
which was probably just as well since he had no idea what to
say.
Walking into the apartment, he felt even more unsettled when
Jarod turned and gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.
His own smile was a little strained when he said, "Hey, what's
up?"
"I've found the hospital that Fennigor left Rome for. It's small
and very private. Getting in could be a little more difficult than I
anticipated, but I can always alter the plan somewhat. Right?"
"Riiight. Failure is not an option. You would have made a truly
terrifying terrorist." Smiling more easily, Rich set his burdens on
the counter and picked up a box to show Jarod. "Look at all
this food Mrs. Kowalski sent up. She thinks we don't eat well
enough."
He popped open a big blue one, finding fried chicken. He kept
up a running commentary of what each box held and how good it
smelled or looked. A pink one held creamed potatoes, and a
smaller pink one held thick country gravy. The yellow box
yielded white beans, and a small green one held dark green
something with bits of white and yellow. He held that one out.
"What do you think this stuff is?" He sniffed. "Whatever, I'm not
eating it."
"Some sort of greens--very nutritious, I'm sure. What's in the
aluminum foil?"
"That would be the corn bread, I guess. Here's the last box.
And we have... banana pudding. It smells good, doesn't it?" He
held the open box out to Jarod who came closer to have a sniff.
Jarod stood next to Rich and leaned forward a little for better
access. "It does smell good. Why are there cookies in pudding
and what is that white fluffy substance?" He had turned his head
to look at Rich as he spoke and now their faces were very close.
"They're vanilla wafers and..." Looking into Jarod's deep brown
eyes so closely, Richie's voice seemed to lock up so he cleared
his throat and tried again. "The white stuff is meringue, it's...you
know that stuff they put on pie." When Jarod was really focused
on someone, the effect was nearly hypnotic. The intensity of that
gaze made Rich wonder if he could look away at all. It was an
incredibly sensual, yet unsettling, sensation.
Suddenly, Jarod blinked and jerked away. He turned back to
the table where his computer sat, saying over his shoulder, "I'll
just finish up here and put everything away before dinner."
"Yeah, that's good. I'll just-- I'll go take a shower."
Jarod watched him practically run from the room and wondered
if Rich's skittishness was a good sign or a bad one. The devious
part of his mind told him it was good, because it meant Rich was
feeling the attraction too. It was also a good sign that he hadn't
left the apartment, just the room. Jarod was a little surprised that
Rich was still with him, anyway.
Jarod slumped down in his chair and started to close down the
computer. When he heard the water go on in the bathroom, he
closed his eyes and pictured a naked Rich stepping into the
shower. It proved easy enough as he had seen Rich nearly
naked several times since they had been friends. He nearly
groaned aloud as he imagined Rich's soapy hands moving over
his muscular chest with its covering of curly red hair. Next Jarod
pictured his own hands moving over Rich's chest and he
did groan aloud. He swallowed hard at the mental
image of his hands gliding even further down that water and soap
slickened body.
He was getting hard and his hands were starting to shake so he
stood up, cleaned off the table, and tried to think about
something else. He wondered if calling Sydney would help him
get his feelings sorted out. After all, he hadn't spoken to the
older man in quite awhile. It was just about time to get in touch
with Angelo, too, to find out what all was going on at the Centre.
To further distract himself, Jarod went over to connect the VCR
to the television. When he reached behind the small wooden TV
stand to find the cables and cords, his hand brushed against
something in an unexpected place. He pulled the stand away
from the wall and looked behind it. A coaxial cable snaked up
out of a small hole in the floor. Jarod plugged it into the back of
the video recorder and then plugged the power cord into the
wall. He fiddled with the cables and connections for awhile and
was pleased to find they now had cable.
Richie came out of the bathroom fully dressed with his hair
combed. Buckling on his watch, he asked Jarod if he was ready
for dinner.
"Sure. I hooked up the TV, and guess what? We have cable,"
said Jarod, leading the way to the kitchen area.
"Cool. Let's eat."
________________________________________
"You know, Mrs. Kowalski is a sweet lady and a great cook,
but she has some rather strange ideas about nutrition. Has she
never heard of fat and cholesterol?" Jarod picked up his empty
plate. "Ready for dessert?"
Rich laughed. "Maybe just a little."
The banana pudding tasted as delicious as it smelled, and the
men enjoyed more than they probably should have. Richie took
the dishes to the sink and started washing, while Jarod hunted
through drawers and cabinets for a dish towel.
They were working close together at the counter, and Jarod
noticed that Rich seemed more relaxed than he had all day. He
decided this might be a good time to discuss their relationship.
Jarod, who was a generally honest straightforward person unless
he was pretending or under suspicion, said the first thing that
came to mind. The rather blunt question, "Rich, have you
ever had sex with a man?"
Rich whipped around, staring at Jarod. "How did you-- I mean,
what kind of question is that?"
"I was just curious. I never have, but I've been thinking about it
a lot lately. Well, thinking about you actually." Intense brown
eyes bored into wide blue ones until Rich blinked and took the
towel to dry his hands. Without a word, he turned and walked
away.
Leaning against the counter, Jarod crossed his arms over his
chest as he watched Rich wander over to the television. He
watched him flip it on and off then walk over to the window.
Starting to worry about Rich's silence, he asked, "Are you okay?
I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that I have
these...feelings for you that don't fit into any category of
friendship that... What I mean is, they are very similar to feelings
I've had for women. Not just sexual attraction but more ...
emotional. I can leave if it makes you too uncomfortable."
"No!" Rich turned and looked at Jarod. "It doesn't make me
uncomfortable exactly. I'm just not sure how I feel about it--
you. I mean, I like you, and you're my friend but..." He walked
to the couch small sofa and flopped down. "I have been with
guys. It was a long time ago. But it was just playing...you know
relieving tension until the next girlfriend came along. I liked it, but
I also liked women and well...being straight was just easier, you
know?"
"Why? Why should it matter who you love?" Jarod understood
the social ramifications, but he could not see how anyone would
let society tell them how to feel.
"It doesn't matter to me. It's just that...I've had gay friends who
got beat up for it, lost jobs, had to keep it a secret... I found it
less complicated to just...focus on women. If I had the
occasional fantasy, well, that was nobody's business but my
own. Does any of this make sense?" Rich looked at Jarod who
hadn't moved. His blue eyes pleaded for understanding or some
small measure of reassurance.
"So what about Duncan and Adam? Doesn't their relationship
show that it can work? Besides you don't have a job right now,
you can hold your own in a fight, and as an Immortal you already
have to live in secrecy. It's me, isn't it?" Jarod asked sadly.
"No, didn't I say that it's not you?" Rich looked at Jarod,
standing there all sad and vulnerable, and considered his feelings
for his friend. The guy just looked so lost...like he expected to
be hurt just because. "Why don't you come over here and sit
down?"
After Jarod had settled next to him, Rich reached out and took
his hand and said, "I am attracted to you, Jarod. And I like you
a lot. I'm just not sure what I want to do about it, yet."
"May I kiss you?" Smiling, Jarod offered, "Might help you make
up your mind."
"Yeah, it just might."
Jarod's left hand remained clutched loosely in Richie's, so he
reached out with his right to stroke Rich's cheek as leaned in for
the kiss. He pressed his lips to Rich's lightly then deepened the
caress. Tilting his head for a better angle, he licked at Rich's lips
until they parted slightly. Jarod took a deeper taste and
shuddered as Rich moaned and started to kiss back.
Richie soaked up Jarod's kisses. He was surprised at the heat
shooting through him just from a kiss. Jarod may not have had a
lot of practical experience, but he had innate talent. Richie was
really getting turned on, and he felt pretty good about it. He
wondered what the hell he had been thinking to turn down Jarod
in the first place. He put his free hand around the back of
Jarod's neck and gave the kiss everything he had.
Finally Jarod sat back gasping. When he could finally both
breathe and speak, he smiled and said, "So what do you think?"
"I think we better move into the bedroom. While this may be
called a 'love seat', it's really not big enough for—"
"Love?"
"Well, fooling around anyway." Standing, he pulled Jarod up
and led him to the bedroom.
By some unspoken mutual consent, they sat on the bed and
removed their boots and socks but nothing else. They stretched
out side by side and lay back against the pillows. Surprisingly,
the change of location had cooled them off a bit.
"Rich, are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Yeah. Are you?" Rich took Jarod's hand again.
"Yes. Well, we really haven't done anything yet."
"That's true. So what do you want to do first?"
"Kissing was good. We could do that some more." Jarod rolled
over and brushed his lips lightly over Richie's. It felt so good that
Jarod did it again and again until Rich raised his head and met
Jarod's mouth with bruising force. Tongues thrust and rubbed in
a sensual tangle.
Unbuttoning Jarod's white cotton shirt with trembling fingers,
Richie shoved his hand inside. He combed his fingers through
the light covering of silky hair. When he found a nipple, he lightly
pinched until it stood at attention. He rubbed circles around the
nub until Jarod moaned. Richie released Jarod's talented mouth
so he could kiss his way down to that beautiful chest.
"May I do the same?" When Rich nodded and went back to
sucking his neck, Jarod made short work of Richie's pale blue
denim shirt. He pushed back the fabric so he could rub his
hands over the muscular planes just as he had fantasized earlier.
It was much better than he had imagined. His fingers tingled and
he fought the urge to laugh because he was afraid of offending
his partner. He brushed his fingers down Rich's sides evoking a
gasp and an evasive move.
Not realizing the potential for tickle torture, Jarod moved his
hands around to Rich's back. The skin was smooth and firm,
making Jarod long to touch every part of his friend. He wanted
to compare the myriad parts--the satiny smooth and the hair-
roughened, the firm and the soft, the bony and the muscular. He
wanted to know all of Richard Ryan, inside and out.
Richie was caught up in the moment until he felt his jeans being
unzipped. He suddenly sat up and grabbed Jarod's hands.
"Jarod. Wait just a minute. Are you sure you want to do this? I
mean, this...this could change our whole relationship..."
"I know, Rich. I want our relationship to change but, if you're
not ready, I understand." Jarod withdrew his hands and started
to button his shirt.
"I don't mean to be a tease or anything, but maybe we should
just take it slow..." Richie turned his gaze from the unexpectedly
sensual sight of Jarod covering up and continued, "You know,
this has been one hideously long day. So, why don't we go
watch some TV and cool off a little? We can decide what do
later-- using our brains instead of our hormones."
Jarod laughed and said, "That's probably the smart thing to do."
"You would know." Richie teased as he rose from the bed and
straightened his clothes. He went out to the living room and
started flipping through the channels.
"Hey, cool! The X-Files is coming on." Richie went to the
kitchen for a soda then sprawled on the couch.
Settling at the dining table, Jarod said, "The X-Files. I believe I
saw that show once. It's about FBI agents investigating alien
abductions and the like, right?"
"Oh yeah, but the best part is the conspiracy story. See, there's
this Smoking Man and these shadowy old guys..."
________________________________________
The next morning, Richie was outside working on his motorcycle
much earlier than he wanted to be. He had awakened from a
fitful sleep at six a.m.-- four hours after the end of The X-Files
marathon-- to find himself wrapped around Jarod. Both had still
been dressed in the T-shirts and boxers that they had agreed to
sleep in, but Rich had found his hand wrapped around Jarod's
hipbone--inside Jarod's underwear. He had carefully withdrawn,
then silently dressed, made a cup of instant coffee, and escaped
outside.
He finished the cleaning and polishing, then reached for his coffee
cup before starting on some other routine maintenance. There
was barely a sip left in the mug and it was cold, but he drank it
anyway. He needed all the help he could get jump-starting his
brain. He debated going to make a fresh cup but decided the
risk of waking Jarod was too great. He wasn't quite ready for
the talk he knew Jarod would insist on. He wondered if his
hesitance was based on caution or cowardice. He went back to
work still wondering.
Richie was hunkered next to his bike checking for loose wires
when a GTO pulled into the driveway. He stood up and saw a
slim blond man climb out of the driver's side. The man looked
vaguely familiar, but Richie couldn't place him. He was also
giving Richie a suspicious once over.
He walked over to stand on the other side on the bike and said,
"Nice bike. Who are you?"
"Richard Ryan. I'm renting the apartment upstairs. Who are
you?" Richie squatted back down and started checking for
loose screws and nuts, being also on the lookout for rust spots
or worn out parts.
"Ray Kowalski. I'm sure my aunt has mentioned me."
"Yeah, she thinks you're too skinny, but someone named Ben is
a good influence. Oh, yeah, you're a cop, so we better watch
our step."
Ray was just about to ask, "Who's we?" when the kid's head
snapped up a second before they heard footsteps on the stairs.
He watched as a tall dark-haired man came around the corner
eating a Twinkie, carrying an unopened pack in his hand.
"Good morning!" Jarod said cheerfully. "Would you like a
Twinkie?"
Ray stared at him for a minute then asked, "And who are you?"
"I'm Jarod. I live here. Pleased to meet you...?"
"Ray Kowalski. You live with—" he nodded at Richie "—him?"
Nodding, Jarod took another bite of his breakfast. He could tell
Kowalski was about to ask more questions and sighed with relief
when a voice called out.
"Stanley Raymond Kowalski! You better not be interrogating
my tenants." Mrs. Kowalski came rushing over to hug her
nephew. "I gave them the standard warning, but I have a good
feeling about these two young men. So you leave them alone."
"Yes, ma'am. We barely had time to exchange names."
Ducking his head, the detective glanced up at his aunt with a
charming grin.
"Yes, I know," she replied, indulgently amused. "I was watching
for you from the front window. I expected Benton to be with
you."
"He had to go to the Consulate early today. The Ice Queen had
her knickers in a twist about something or other."
"Ray, really."
"Sorry, Aunt Pearl." Kowalski straightened his spine and politely
recited, "What I meant to say was Inspector Thatcher was upset
and needed Fraser's assistance."
"That's better. Now come on in the house. Breakfast will be
ready in just a few minutes." She turned to Jarod and Richie and
said, "Have you boys eaten yet? Come and join--" Her eyes
widened as she spotted the snack cakes Jarod was trying to hide
against his leg. "You're not eating THAT for breakfast, are
you?"
"Um, I guess not. Rich and I have an appointment this morning
so, I'm sorry, but we'll have to decline your invitation."
"Well, if you're sure." She took her nephew by the arm and
went back to the house.
Richie waited until the two Kowalskis were out of earshot before
laughing. "His name is Stanley Kowalski?"
"Yes. That's what he said. What's so funny?"
"Stanley Kowalski was a character in "Streetcar Named Desire".
Marlon Brando played him in the movie version. Don't worry,
we'll rent it sometime, and you can see why it's so funny that
someone named their kid that." Rich turned back to finish his
bike inspection, asking casually, "What's this about an
appointment?"
"I have to go check out the hospital, and I thought you could
come with me. If you want to, that is. It probably wouldn't be a
good idea to let Detective Kowalski ask all those questions that
he's dying to ask."
Rich snorted and rolled his eyes. "Good point. I'm about done
here then I need to clean up. Give me about twenty minutes?"
Ripping open the Twinkie package, Jarod grinned. "No hurry.
Want a Twinkie?"
Richie held up his dirty hands and shook his head.
Jarod teasingly waved the golden snack under Richie's nose.
"Come on, Rich. You know you want to..."
Looking deep into Jarod's eyes, Rich slowly licked his lips,
parting them slightly. He leaned forward and took a bite, leaving
a trace of crème filling on his lower lip.
Stepping closer, Jarod tilted his head, watching Rich chew and
swallow. He raised one hand, murmuring, "You've got..." He
put his hand along Rich's jaw then swept his tongue over the
younger man's lips. Heart pounding, he kissed him deeply,
keeping his eyes open and focused.
Richie's eyelids fluttered shut, and he moaned slightly, returning
the caress of lips and tongue. He was drowning in Jarod and
didn't care any more.
The sound of a door slamming across the street reminded them
of where they were. They broke the kiss, but otherwise neither
man moved. They stood speechless, eyes locked.
Jarod blinked and said quietly, "That was very sweet."
Rich groaned at the pun then laughed. "Yeah, gave me a new
appreciation for Twinkies."
Blushing, Jarod shook his head. "I was serious. Does this mean
you're okay with what almost happened last night?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just about straightened out, so to speak.
I've had such bad luck with women that I don't see how a
relationship with a guy could be any worse. Did I ever tell you
about Kristen? No? How about Felicia?" He shuddered
theatrically. "Well, anyway you and I...we're already good
friends with a certain level of trust built up. Yeah, I think
we could make it work."
"We will. I haven't had much experience with close personal
relationships, but I have read some books."
"Of course, you have. Did you read any good ones?" He raised
his eyebrows and smirked. "With pictures?"
"Well, I studied the Kama Sutra, but I left my copy for Miss
Parker. And I did write a romance novel once. It had a very
limited print run that was only available through a certain adult
book store. Actually, that was for Miss Parker too."
Jarod stood lost in the thought for couple minutes until Rich
hesitantly spoke. "Sounds like you really belong with Miss
Parker instead of me."
"We have a long and complex history that both pulls us together
and tears us apart. My feelings for Miss Parker are very
complicated. A future with her would be impossible even
without her hostility and my immortality. Never think my
affections for you are some kind of substitute. I wouldn't do that
to either of us."
Richie nodded and turned to pick up his tools and cleaning
supplies. "I'll go get cleaned up now, and we can get started on
the great Fennigor search."
As they went up the stairs, Jarod said, "I'm going to make some
calls. See if Fennigor is at the hospital yet. After you left this
morning, I couldn't sleep so I got up and ran another search. I
found a possible home address but no phone number."
Rich headed off to the shower while Jarod went for his cell
phone.
________________________________________
Rich walked out of the bathroom to find Jarod sprawled in his
chair staring at the phone still clutched in his hand. "What's
wrong?"
Jarod's head snapped up and his gaze focused. "Fennigor didn't
show up at the hospital today. He's only half an hour late, so
they're not worried yet."
"But you are?"
"A little. The Centre can be ruthless. If they realize that
Fennigor is a threat to their lies, they will certainly take measures
to keep him quiet."
"You mean kill him?"
"Not necessarily, but I wouldn't rule it out completely." He
stood decisively. "Let's go check out his apartment first."
________________________________________
Fennigor's apartment was in an old three story brownstone. The
neighborhood was caught up in the early stages of urban
renewal. Several buildings stood empty and so run down they
should have been condemned, but there were just as many that
had been or were in the process of being restored to their
former glory.
Their destination was one of the nicer buildings. Jarod and
Richie strode up the steps to the entrance as if they owned the
place. Fennigor's apartment was on the second floor, and when
they got there they found the door slightly ajar. With raised
brows and a cock of the head, Jarod silently conferred with Rich
then stood to one side and cautiously pushed the door open.
Rich kept one hand on his sword but didn't draw it out yet.
Jarod slinked into the living room and softly called out, "Hello?
Mr. Fennigor?" The rooms remained silent, so he went to the
bedroom door. He glanced inside about to call out again, but his
breath caught on a gasp. He quickly turned away and bumped
into Rich who had just come up behind him.
Jarod stepped back, giving Rich a clear view into the room. He
flinched at the gruesome sight of the old man's lifeless body lying
in a tumble of blood soaked sheets. His throat had been cut
deeply to the point of near decapitation.
Rich turned to Jarod, shock in his wide-eyed gaze. "Did...did
the Centre do this?"
Shaking his head helplessly, Jarod started for the desk in the
corner of the living room. Richie caught his arm, whispering
harshly, "Are you nuts? Don't touch anything!" He started pulling
Jarod to the door. "We've gotta get outta here, NOW! Call the
police from a safe distance if you want--"
Jarod dug in his heels. "He may have information about my
family in here."
"Would he keep anything of any real value here? It's
probably hidden away somewhere. You can hunt for
information later. Now, come on."
The two men pulled the door almost shut, wiped off their prints,
and walked casually out of the building. As soon as they hit the
sidewalk, the Presence of another Immortal shivered over both
of them. Jarod looked down the street to see Max Kritschgau
leaning negligently against the stoop of an abandoned building.
When he saw he had their attention, Kritschgau raised a hand
and beckoned imperiously. Jarod stalked quickly toward the
other Immortal with his hand in his coat. Turning, Kritschgau
went up the steps and through the formerly boarded up
doorway.
Following cautiously, Jarod drew his sword as he entered the
dim interior. He deflected a blow aimed at his head then dodged
left to come up behind his opponent. His thrust was parried as
Kritschgau swung around to face him. "Why did you kill
Fennigor?"
"To get your attention." Swords clashed as the two men
skittered across the cluttered floor. The men exchanged shallow
cuts to the chest and arms, and Jarod took a hard kick to the
knee that made him stumble.
"Why me?" Jarod regained his footing, striking with a fierce two
handed swing that was deflected just inches from Kritschgau's
smirking face.
"Why not you? I like the young ones. The quickening isn't as
great but much easier to obtain." He advanced with a flurry of
blows that drove Jarod back into a pile of trash. Jarod's foot hit
a broken bottle, causing his already injured knee to twist
painfully.
Jarod fell to his good knee as Kritschgau's blade caught the hilt
of Jarod's. With a powerful jerk, the Immortal snatched Jarod's
sword from his hand. His smile was feral as he drew back his
saber to take the younger man's head. "See? Much easier."
Richie slipped through the door just in time to see Kritschgau's
arm falter on the downswing. His sword fell with a loud clatter
as Jarod pulled an impossibly long dagger from his opponent's
chest. Jarod's eyes met Rich's as he drew his arm back and
swung with his whole body. Kritschgau's body hit the floor a
few seconds after his head.
Rich backed toward the door but ran into the wall and then it
was too late to get away. The white mist was already rising as
the dead Immortal's quickening sought out his killer's. Jarod was
so caught up in his first quickening that he didn't notice the stray
tendrils reaching for Richie.
Jarod was still kneeling on the floor staring at Rich when the first
bolts hit. He threw his head back and choked out a scream as
the energy slammed into him again and again. It was pain and
pleasure, intense emotion and physical weakness. It was like
having an incredible orgasm while being run over by a train.
When it was over, he collapsed.
Rich remained splayed against the wall for several minutes trying
to gain his breath. He was tingling all over from the bits of the
quickening he had gotten. It was an incredible feeling like a
miniature quickening with none of the pain. He tried to shake it
off as he rushed to his friend's side and wrapped his arms around
him. Jarod moaned and burrowed into the embrace. Lifting him
up to a sitting position, Rich spoke soothingly in his ear.
"Come on, Jarod. Gotta get up now. Okay, buddy?" He
wiped the tears from Jarod's face. "We need to get out of here
before the cops show up. Come on babe, you hated jail.
Remember?"
"No jail." Jarod struggled up to his knees then let Rich pull him
to his feet. He staggered against Rich, who supported him for a
moment before trying to move again.
"Good trick with the extra blade. Adam?" Rich tightened his
arms around his friend, stroking and petting.
"Yeah, he told me I'd need it someday. Didn't realize it would
be so soon."
He straightened and stood on his own for a minute before
stumbling to the door still wrapped in Rich's strong arms.
They paused while Rich made sure the police hadn't arrived yet.
"Okay, the coast is clear. You have two choices. Either you're
strong enough to ride your own bike back to the apartment or
you ride with me and most likely never see your bike again."
Jarod pulled away from Rich and took a deep breath. He
ducked outside, took another deep breath, then walked down
the steps with barely a wobble. He looked at Rich and said, "I
think I'm okay to drive." Still flushed from the powerful
experience, he surreptitiously adjusted his post-quickening
erection.
Rich noticed and chuckled. "Happens every time. You deal
with it when you get home or, if you have a partner, you deal
with it together." He grinned with a suggestive glint in his eyes.
"Well, let's go then." Jarod pulled his coat over his bloody shirt
and hobbled off down the street favoring his right knee.
________________________________________
Parking their motorcycles in the driveway, they hurried up to
their apartment trying not to attract attention. Jarod had
completely healed on the ride over and was now just unbearably
aroused. He pulled Rich through the door and caught his mouth
in a scorching kiss.
Jarod tried to slow down and be gentle, but the energy coursing
through him would not allow it. He needed release,
now. Tenderness would just have to wait until control
was a more solid concept. He wanted Rich naked and
under him or over him or beside him--it didn't matter as long as
they were touching. And he did want to touch...everything, he
thought as he stripped off Rich's jacket and shirt in one move.
Turned on and desperate, Rich gasped for breath while trying to
get Jarod's clothes off. Jarod latched onto his throat, biting and
sucking as he tried to wrestle Richie's jeans down. Rich wiggled
around trying to help, but he was distracted by the heat racing
from his neck to his groin making his erection harden and throb.
His hunger for Jarod was growing unbearable and affecting his
balance. He tugged at Jarod's jeans too enthusiastically, and
both men went down in a heap.
Jarod ended up on top but quickly rolled to one side. He pulled
his jeans out of the way, flipped back on top of Rich, and began
thrusting wildly. His hard weeping erection slid and bumped
against Rich's as their hips pumped together in passionate frenzy.
Richie grabbed Jarod's head and pulled him down for a deep
rough kiss, tongues thrusting in matching rhythm.
Jarod felt the pressure building and bit down on Rich's lip as it
exploded. He groaned loudly as he came in a jetting stream
against his lover's grinding body. Rich followed him a breathless
moment later with a harsh cry.
They sprawled on the floor, exhausted but sated for the moment.
Seeing blood on Rich's mouth, Jarod reached his fingers out to
gently wipe it off the already healed lower lip.
"I hurt you. I'm sorry."
"I didn't notice." Rich smiled and sighed, "Ah, the healing
powers of Immortals." He turned to kiss Jarod lightly on the
cheek, chin, nose, and mouth.
Jarod felt desire returning to previously sated flesh and grinned.
"The recuperative powers are also quite amazing."
"Ready for another go-around, huh?" Feeling pretty ready
himself, Rich sat up to take off his boots so he could get his
pants off. Jarod followed suit and soon they were both naked,
still sitting on the floor in front of the front door.
Jarod ran his hand across his sticky belly and said, "We really
need to clean up before we do anything else."
"You know, I noticed that tub in there is pretty big. Big enough
for two, maybe?"
"Bathe together? We can do that?" Jarod was wearing that
intrigued look he got when faced with a concept that warranted
further study. "I can't wait to see what else we can do in there."
Rich leaned over and kissed him long and hard then said, "Like
they said in 'Casablanca', this is the start of a beautiful
friendship."
"Not another movie?" Pulling Rich to his feet, Jarod wrapped his
arms around his new lover. Jarod was actually happy with his
life for a change. Rich was turning out to be just what he
needed.
"Yeah, another movie. We're going to start work on
your education soon. Your real education..."
Richie knew that Jarod would be a wreck tomorrow when it
finally hit him that he had really killed a man. But he was willing
to let it wait until morning. They had the whole night ahead of
them, a new relationship, and Immortal powers of recovery.
That was more than enough for now.
The End.
This puppy took the better part of a year to get posted, so do
not expect any sequels in this millennium. Thanks for reading! ;)
Comments? let me have 'em: abink@nashville.com
an itty bit of Due South
Disclaimer: Most of these characters are the property
of others (too numerous to mention even if I did know). No
copyright infringement intended.
Rating: NC-17
Big thank you to Carolyn for being brave enough to beta(all
mistakes are still mine). Thanks also to Jo and my RSM sisters,
Diana and mouse, who long ago said "post it".
Note: This is actually a sequel to a story that needs
too much work to ever post (one of my first pieces of Fanfic
ever). All you really need to know is that Jarod is Immortal
(after being killed in a robbery where Duncan MacLeod and his
lover "Adam Pierson" were present--I did Pop-Tarts before the
show did! ;-). When he left Seacouver, Rich went with him to
kind of help him out with the Immortality thing (I'm sure
attraction had nothing to do with it. Yeah right. ;-)
This is a total A/U—-making no effort to follow the continuity of
any of the shows borrowed here. But it was started *before*
the Pretender ep. "Bank" where Mr. Fennigor turned up.
By Amy B
Jarod pulled his motorcycle into the parking lot of a small diner
on the outskirts of Rome, Wisconsin. He dismounted slowly and
took off his helmet. Stretching his weary muscles, he thought that
last hundred miles had seemed like a thousand.
"Hey, man, are you sure this is the right place?" Jarod turned
and looked over at Richie Ryan who had dismounted his own
bike and now looked around with a bemused expression. "This
town is like Mayberry or something. Why would Fennigor be
here?"
"Well Rich, that's what we have to find out. Now, are you
hungry or-" Jarod broke off abruptly, smacked his forehead with
his open palm and laughed. "What was I thinking? Of course
you're hungry!"
"Laugh it up, smart boy. You eat at least as much junk as I do,"
Richie returned with a grin. "Living with Mac for six weeks must
have been hell for you."
The two Immortals went into the diner as they continued the
teasing. They took seats at a booth by the window as Jarod
said, "I think I did finally convince him that Pez has nutritional
value. Was he so strict when you lived with him?"
Richie studied his menu for a minute then replied, "He tried, but
Tessa was much more understanding of a teenager's need for
junk food and a lot of it."
Sadness flashed briefly through his blue eyes but, before Jarod
could comment, the waitress came to take their orders.
The two men ate in a comfortable silence. Jarod finally spoke
again as they finished their blue-plate specials and contemplated
dessert. "You must really miss her...Tessa."
"She was a good friend. I guess she gave me a lot of the
mothering I would have sworn that I didn't need. So, yeah, I
miss her. I probably always will, at least a little bit."
"I know what missing someone is like. That's why we have to
find Mr. Fennigor. I am certain he can tell me where my family is
or at least where I came from." Jarod glanced out the window
and lowered his voice. "I don't care if I was adopted. They are
my family, and I will find them."
"I believe you will, buddy. You've got more determination than
anyone I've ever seen." Richie grinned to lighten the suddenly
somber mood. "Come on. Let's get going. This town probably
closes up at sundown."
Richie went to the restroom while Jarod paid his bill and stepped
outside. His head snapped up as he felt the Presence of another
Immortal. He knew it could be Rich, but he hadn't been gone
very long, and it was better to be prepared. He looked around
to pinpoint the source of the Buzz as he moved toward his bike
for his sword.
A tall dark man climbed out of a Chevy Blazer a few parking
spaces away. He came toward Jarod with a calculating smile.
He stopped barely five feet away and gave a courtly bow. "I am
Max Kritschgau. Shall we adjourn to a more private place?"
"My name is Jarod, but I have no quarrel with you. I really don't
want to have to kill you." Jarod figured a façade of calm
confidence would mask his frantic heartbeat. He had been
taught by the best and continued to train hard with Richie every
day, but this was his first real challenge. He couldn't help but be
apprehensive when the stakes were so high.
"You have to face my challenge...or run away. But know this, if
you run, I'll just come after you anyway. So why don't you save
us both the trouble, hmm? There's an abandoned barn a couple
of miles down that road," he said as he pointed at the gravel farm
road that joined the highway in front of the diner. "You have ten
minutes." He turned and walked back to his truck as Richie
came out to stand with Jarod.
"Who's that? Did he challenge you?"
"Max Kritschgau. Ever hear of him?" Rich shook his head, and
Jarod continued, "Yes, well, I'm to meet him in ten minutes at an
abandoned barn."
Jarod spoke calmly, but Richie could see the turmoil in his
friend's eyes. He remembered facing Annie Devlin in his first
challenge and being unable to follow through and take her head.
He put a hand on the taller man's shoulder and quietly said, "You
don't have to meet him if you're not ready. We can leave town
and come back when it's safer. You know what Adam would
say, don't you?"
"Live, grow stronger, and fight another day," they said together
like a well-rehearsed chorus.
"I know, Rich, I know. But I have to face my first challenge
sometime. He said he would hunt me if I don't fight him today."
Jarod smiled slightly. "I have enough to do just keeping ahead of
the Centre. I don't need anybody else after me."
"If you're sure, then let's go. But only if you're absolutely sure."
Richie climbed onto his motorcycle and prepared to leave.
Grabbing his arm, Jarod said, "No, I'll go alone. You know the
rules. One on one." When Richie would have protested, Jarod
shook his arm a little and turned him loose before continuing, "I
have to do this. You won't always be here. I have to do this
myself...see if I can, anyway. Besides that, I need you to hold
the DSA's for me. I don't want to know what a Quickening
would do to my computer."
Richie took the silver Halliburton case with an unreadable
expression then said, "Fine, go ahead. I understand."
Jarod attempted to lighten the mood with a bit of morbid humor.
"Hey, if I don't come back, you also get my Pez collection."
"You can be one sick puppy, you know," Richie groaned. "You
better go. Don't want to be late."
As soon as Jarod was out of sight down the country road, Richie
followed along behind. When he figured he was close to his
destination, he pulled over to the side of the road and hid the
bike behind some bushes. He set off on foot careful to stay out
of sensing range.
Kritschgau stood in the entrance of the dilapidated structure
holding a cavalry saber at his side. "I do so appreciate
punctuality, Jarod." He moved back into the open sun dappled
interior of the barn, motioning for Jarod to follow.
Jarod moved forward with his blade at the ready but stopped
short of attacking. The combatants circled looking for
weaknesses, for openings...
Suddenly, Kritschgau lunged, aiming a powerful blow at Jarod's
head. Jarod blocked the blow, and the fight was on.
Richie tried to watch from his hiding place in the trees across the
road, but the two fighters kept moving in and out of his field of
vision. He was about to leave his concealment to find a better
vantage point when he heard the sound of a car coming. In a
colossal case of bad timing, Jarod and Kritschgau tumbled out
into the open just as the sheriff's car rounded the curve.
The two opponents were locked in battle so furious that the car's
arrival went unnoticed until the blue lights flashed and a loud
voice called out, "This is the Police! Put down your weapons!"
Muffling a curse, Richie faded further into the trees. He
wondered if he had enough money for bail then shrugged. "Ah,
well, if not, Jarod either has it or can get it. Guy's a miracle
worker at getting out of tight spots."
Jarod moved a safe distance from his opponent before lowering
his sword slowly to the ground and looking at the officers
cautiously approaching. The older one wore a sheriff's badge
and a seen-it-all expression. The deputy was a few steps ahead
with his gun held stiffly out in front, covering both suspects. The
sheriff left his weapon holstered but unsnapped the strap and
kept his hand close by.
"I sure hope you fellows have a good explanation for this,"
Sheriff Brock said with a sigh. "You-" he motioned at
Kritschgau "-move away from the sword."
While Deputy Lacos covered him, Sheriff Brock cuffed
Kritschgau first and then moved over to Jarod. Holding his
hands out, Jarod asked what the charge was.
"We'll figure it out at the station. Now come along." He led
Jarod over to the car while the deputy holstered his gun and led
Kritschgau over to the other side.
On the trip into town, Jarod asked the question that had puzzled
him since the officers first pulled up to the barn. "Sheriff, may I
ask you something? Why were you not surprised to come
across two men sword fighting?"
"Well, after the Dancing Bandit became mayor and several
incidents of death by kitchen appliances, nothing much surprises
me. And after you've appeared in court, you'll understand even
better," the sheriff replied as Deputy Lacos nodded his
agreement.
Jarod pondered that answer as he turned slightly to glance out
the back window. He was relieved to see a familiar figure
following along at a respectable distance. He turned back
secure that this time he wasn't alone. He hoped that Rich was
taking good care of the Halliburton.
Kritschgau, who had remained silent, now leaned toward Jarod
and spoke too low for the lawmen to hear. "This doesn't relieve
you of the challenge. We will meet again."
Jarod nodded, resigned to the facts of his new life.
________________________________________
Richie rode into the small town of Rome just behind the Sheriff's
car, but when it parked in front of the jail, he kept on going. A
half a block down the street, he pulled into a parking spot next to
a pay phone. He watched Jarod being led into the building then
reached for the phone book dangling by its chain. Now Richie
was sure this was Mayberry. The directory was present and
intact.
Flipping quickly to the yellow pages, he found the listings for
attorneys. His eye was immediately caught by a half page
advertisement reading "Wambaugh for The Defense." The
address listed was just across the street from the jail, so he left
his bike and walked over.
A cute brunette about his apparent age greeted Richie at the
lawyer's office. He flashed his brightest lady killer smile and
said, "Hi, I'm Richard Ryan. Is Mr. Wambaugh in?"
"We were just about to close for the day. I don't suppose you
have an appointment?" The girl seemed oddly amused, instead
of inconvenienced.
"Well, no. But this is sort of an emergency." This time, instead
of the grin, he tried the hopeful earnest puppy dog look that had
also been moderately successful with the ladies.
"Of course, it is. I'll see if he can see you." She smiled and left
the small reception area. Richie stared after her with a goofy
look on his face. She was gone just long enough for him to
recover his cool.
"Mr. Wambaugh will see you now. Go right on in." She
motioned him through the door into the inner office.
"Thanks...I'm sorry. I didn't get your name?"
"Kimberly Brock." She shook the hand he held out.
"Nice meeting you, Kimberly. Maybe I'll see you again while I'm
in town," said Richie. Kimberly, sensing a bit of diffidence in
what was on the surface an invitation, just smiled and gently shut
the door in his face.
"Better watch out for that one. Her father's the sheriff. Well,
don't just stand there. Come over, sit."
Richie turned to look for the source of the comment. An older
man sat behind a big old wooden desk wearing a tweed suit and
a bow tie. He looked too much like someone's grandpa for
Richie to imagine him as the bloodthirsty shark that lawyers are
supposed to be.
Richie sat down, introduced himself, and said, "Sorry to come in
so late. This is kind of an odd case..."
"I'm a character. Odd cases are my specialty. What did you
do?" Wambaugh leaned forward interestedly.
"It wasn't me. My friend was picked up just a little while ago
for...sword fighting."
"Wonderful! This I can work with! Give me his name and I'll
call and get the details."
"His name is Jarod...Hopper." Good grief! thought
Richie. Why did I insist on showing Jarod 'Easy Rider'?
"I think it was the sheriff that took him in. I don't know if he's
even been charged yet, but we've gotta get him out of there. He
can't stand being locked up."
"Don't worry, I'm on it. Go talk to Kimberly about fees and
such," the lawyer said making a shooing motion toward the door.
________________________________________
Jarod paced from one side of the cell to the other. It only took
three steps to do this, but it was something to do. He was glad
he had left his extensive collection of identification in the
computer case with Rich. He could just imagine what the sheriff
would have thought if Jarod had given his current name when he
had proof of so many other names and occupations. All those
fake badges would have certainly caused trouble. Maybe he
should have tried to use one of the law enforcement ID's to get
out of this mess. He could have claimed to be undercover for the
DEA or maybe the FBI. The sword might have taken a little
explaining...
He let out a sigh and took another trip across the cell. Step step
step, turn, step step step, turn. Ever since escaping from the
Centre, Jarod had thrived on sunshine and wide-open spaces.
Now he was right back where he started. At least here, there
were no video cameras constantly recording his every move.
He could see Kritschgau across the way in the other cell. The
Immortal appeared to be sleeping rather soundly. Being arrested
didn't seem to worry him any. Jarod thought it must happen a lot
for the man to be so blasé about being locked up. Jarod
shuddered a little and continued his pacing, wishing Rich would
hurry up and get him out of here.
He thought again how comforting it was to know that he wasn't
alone this time. It felt good to have a friend. Sometimes he
thought of Sydney as a friend, and he had certainly helped Jarod
out with inside information from the Centre. But, then again,
Jarod had reciprocated in spite of his lingering anger and
resentment over being held at the Centre and Sydney's part in it.
Although the emotional baggage was full to overflowing
sometimes, Sydney was still the closest thing to a father that
Jarod had ever known.
Rich, on the other hand, was a true friend-- probably Jarod's
closest since childhood. They were equals with no baggage
between them. Although Jarod was several years older than
Richie, Rich had been Immortal longer. Rich also had more
experience with certain aspects of life--like getting out of
jail-- in the outside world than Jarod did. Jarod also found it
very reassuring to have someone that he didn't have to pretend
with. Rich knew all about Jarod's past yet Jarod didn't feel
threatened by that knowledge. He actually trusted Rich, and trust
was not something that came easily to Jarod.
The closeness of their relationship made Jarod feel warm and
almost safe. He occasionally had doubts about what kind of
friend he was to Richie. But then Rich would give him a grin and
a pat on the back, and Jarod would feel okay again. He shook
his head at the mushy direction his thoughts were taking, then
stopped his pacing as he felt the approach of another Immortal.
A pretty red-haired deputy escorted Richie into the passageway
between the cells then took up position in front of the door. She
frowned and said sternly, "I'll be watching so don't try anything."
Richie gave her a distracted smile and hurried over to Jarod's
cell. He darted a look over at Kritschgau who had woken when
he felt Richie's approaching Presence. He grasped the bars in
front of Jarod and whispered, "Hey, man. How are you holding
up?"
Jarod smiled. "Better now that you're here. Get me out of here,
please."
"I've got a lawyer working on it, but it's nearly six o'clock, and
this is a very small town. They might let you go if you guys both
say you were only fencing, not fighting. Or you could claim to be
a collector or a dealer. That always works for Mac." Rich
glanced back at the other cell. "He's not giving you any trouble,
is he?"
"No, he's been sleeping or ignoring me. I just want to get out of
here. The walls are closing in on me." Jarod was trying to be
stoic but a bit of his inner panic showed in his wide brown eyes.
Richie stepped closer and reached one hand through the bars to
rub Jarod's shoulder. He tried to reassure his friend. "I know,
buddy, I know. Mr. Wambaugh--that's the lawyer--is working
on getting you cut loose. Listen, even if we don't get this cleared
up tonight, I'm sure we'll be out on the open road in no time.
Just think about that, okay? Putting your bike on the highway
and opening up the throttle...the speed and the wind and the
freedom... It's just like flying, isn't it?"
Jarod swallowed hard and felt a faint blush start up his cheeks as
Rich's words caused an interesting physical reaction. This
arousal was unexpected. Jarod had never found riding his
motorcycle to be a particularly erotic experience, so he
concluded that it must be Rich who evoked these feelings.
Jarod considered his limited sexual experience, which had been
with a woman, and tried to apply that to Rich. He found it
surprisingly easy to accept the attraction, but decided that a small
town jail was not the place to analyze his feelings and the
constrictions that society might try to place on them. He pulled
back from the hand caressing his shoulder and began to pace
again, trying to keep his body turned slightly away from Richie so
the other man wouldn't notice how tight his jeans had become.
He looked over to see Rich staring at him; hand still outstretched
through the bars. He tried to smile, but it just didn't work. "Um,
thanks. I'll try that. But there's still Fennigor to find--"
"No problem. I'll work on that, too."
"Be very discreet."
Cocking his head, Richie gave Jarod a 'get real' look. "I think I
can be discreet."
Jarod chuckled and said, "Yeah, I guess you have to be."
"Time's up!"
Both men jumped at the intrusion as they had totally forgotten
that the deputy was there. As the deputy led him away, Rich
said, "Just stay cool, okay? I'll take care of everything!"
Turning away from the closing door, Jarod saw the knowing
smirk on Kritschgau's face. Although he had his body back
under control, that look made Jarod start blushing all over again.
To cover his embarrassment, he narrowed his eyes and snapped,
"What? Go ahead and say it."
"It's amusing to me how you young ones get so worked up over
the smallest things. I can't tell which one of you is more innocent.
Hmmm, probably you. The boy has an earthy quality that
suggests a slightly more varied experience. Although it is hard to
tell sometimes. Still waters and all that."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You should. You want him. I don't blame you really. He is
cute in a puppyish sort of way My own tastes have quite
expanded over the last couple of centuries. There once was a
time I wouldn't have given a man a second look, except to kill
him, of course. Now the killing is still the best part, but there are
so many other pleasures to be had. Too bad you won't
have time to find out about them." Kritschgau shrugged.
"Maybe I'll give him a try after I dispatch you. Of course, I'll
have to kill him afterward...unless he's really good."
"You leave him alone!" Jarod growled as protective instincts
blended with jealous rage. "You challenged me, and I will fight
you, but you leave him out of this. If you do manage to take my
head, Rich will take yours."
"We'll see." Lying back on his bunk, Kritschgau began plotting
his escape.
________________________________________
Jarod was sleeping fitfully, dreaming of the Centre, when some
unidentified noise woke him. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed a hand
over his face trying to wake up fully. He realized that the
commotion was coming from the other cell just as he also
realized that he couldn't feel Kritschgau's Presence any more.
He stood and walked over to the bars. The red haired Deputy
Stewart was watching a couple of male deputies wrestling with
something inside the cell. Jarod asked her what was going on.
"Kritschgau hung himself last night," she answered absently.
Then she swung around and looked at Jarod. "What do you
know about this?"
"Nothing. He fell asleep before I did, but he seemed fine to me."
Two EMT's came rushing in with a stretcher. The deputy moved
out of their way, careful not to get too close to Jarod. She
turned back with another question.
"Did he say anything that suggested he was thinking of suicide?"
"No. We didn't talk much, and I really didn't know him."
The deputy's blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Yet you were
fighting with him yesterday. What was that about?"
"I think I'd better wait until my lawyer gets here before making
any statements."
Her attention was drifting back to the activity in the other cell.
She replied distractedly, "That would probably be best. Who's
your lawyer?"
"His name is Wambaugh, I believe."
She turned back to look at Jarod with a resigned smile and
nodded. "I should have known."
Jarod looked over her shoulder at the body being carted out and
sighed. He wondered how this turn of events would affect his
getting out of jail. He thought back over the law books he had
read and decided it should actually help.
________________________________________
Several minutes after Kritschgau's body had been removed,
Deputy Lacos came to escort Jarod to the interview room.
Sheriff Brock and DA John Littleton were chatting quietly when
the deputy brought Jarod in and seated him at the table. The
two men stopped talking and turned to Jarod. The sheriff said
"Mr. Hopper, you understand that since you have not been
formally arrested you don't necessarily need an attorney. We
just need to ask you a few questions to get this situation all
straightened out."
"I understand. But I would like to speak with my attorney, Mr.
Wambaugh, first."
"I'll have someone call him," said Littleton, as he rose and left the
room.
Sheriff Brock and Jarod sat and looked at each other, neither
speaking. A few minutes later, the DA returned with an older
man in tow and said, "He was already on his way over." He
turned to Jarod. "A deputy will be right outside. When you're
ready just knock on the door and then we can get started."
"We'll try to get this wrapped up quickly. I'm sure my client is
innocent and this is all a big mistake." Wambaugh grinned and
made a little shooing motion at the other two men who left
without a backward glance.
"Douglas Wambaugh at your service! Now tell me the story,
Mr. Hopper." He settled at the table and looked interested and
ready to believe--at least in court-- whatever Jarod was going to
say.
"Call me Jarod." Wambaugh nodded, and Jarod continued.
"I'm a sword collector, and Max Kritschgau claimed to have an
antique cavalry saber for sale. So I went to meet him to have a
look at the sword and maybe make an offer. He attacked me,
and I fought back. I didn't know him previously, and I have no
idea why he would commit suicide."
"Ah. A clear case of self-defense. Of course, with your
attacker now in the morgue--apparently from his own hand--
they have no case." Smiling with satisfaction, he leaned back to
knock on the door.
The sheriff and the DA filed in and took their seats. Sheriff
Brock looked over at Littleton, who nodded, then he turned
back to Jarod "Do want to tell us what happened yesterday?"
"Are you going to arrest my client? What are the charges?"
"Doug, that's what we're trying to determine. Since neither of the
participants wanted to press assault charges, the charges would
likely be disturbing the peace and disorderly conduct. But what
we're focusing on right now is what happened to Max
Kritschgau last night."
"He hung himself while my client was safely locked away in his
own cell."
"Why would he hang himself over a couple of misdemeanor
charges that probably wouldn't have amounted to much
anyway?"
"He was obviously unstable. He had already attacked my client
with a very sharp sword. That was attempted murder with Jarod
as the victim, so maybe he thought he was in more trouble than
he was. Maybe he was already suicidal, who knows?"
Wambaugh shrugged. "My client would be glad to tell
you anything else about last night as long as you agree not to
press any charges for the little dust-up with Kritschgau."
Littleton and Brock consulted quietly then agreed. The sheriff
looked Jarod in the eye and asked, "Okay, what did you know
about Max Kritschgau? Did you notice any strange behavior?
Did he show signs of despair or depression or other suicidal
behavior?"
"I had never met the man until yesterday. He claimed to have an
antique sword for sale. I expressed interest. We met to discuss
a possible sale, he attacked, I fought back, and then you showed
up. I didn't notice any suicidal tendencies, but then we really
didn't talk much."
"But you did talk?"
"Well, he made some comments from his cell, and I pretty much
ignored him. He rolled over and went to sleep. A couple hours
later, I went to sleep. The next thing I know, they're carrying his
dead body out. I didn't see or hear anything."
"What kind of comments?"
Jarod looked down at the table and tried to remain calm. When
he looked up at the sheriff, his face was totally expressionless as
he lied, "General philosophy of life comments. I don't remember
anything specific."
The sheriff nodded and glanced at the DA who shrugged and
shook his head looking rather frustrated. He looked back at
Jarod and said, "You gave your address as St. Paul Minnesota,
correct?"
"Yes."
"This is going to sound like an episode of "Gunsmoke", but if you
promise to leave town immediately, we're willing to let this go."
"I do have some business here, but it shouldn't take long. Then I
will be more than happy to leave."
"What business?" asked Sheriff Brock skeptically.
"I'm looking for a man named Fennigor who was a friend of my
parents," Jarod obfuscated as boldly and calmly as ever.
"Fennigor, hmm? I believe he moved to--Was it Chicago,
Doug?-- a couple of months ago. So there's nothing keeping
you here. You're free to go." Sheriff Brock stood, and the other
men followed. "Come to the front desk and you can sign some
papers and get your stuff back."
________________________________________
Jarod walked out into the morning sunshine. Taking a deep
breath, he vowed, in future, to avoid jail at any cost. He saw
Rich coming down the sidewalk and went to meet him. Jarod
caught him up in a spontaneous hug that was briefly, yet warmly,
returned. Both men stepped back quickly and started to
speak, words crashing together. They laughed, then both said,
"You first!"
Richie shook his head and held up one hand. "I got your bike
back. It's in the courthouse parking lot with mine. The best I
could come up with on Fennigor is that he moved to Chicago--
maybe to take a job at some private hospital. Nobody I talked
to was clear on what hospital, and most had no idea what the
man did for a living. Seems he was the quiet type, kept to
himself. Nobody seems to know much about him."
"I can't say that I'm surprised. Sheriff Brock told me about
Chicago, but not why he left." He smiled as they started walking
toward the parking lot. "Thanks for getting my bike. I promised
the Sheriff that I would leave town this morning, and I really
don't want to be around whenever Kritschgau revives."
"No problem, man. I will be glad to see the last of this place."
Richie came closer and lowered his voice. "I heard that they had
a cow give birth to a human baby. That is seriously weird...if it's
even true, of course. It was probably just the locals playing a
joke on an outsider."
"Fascinating." Jarod got that half-smiling-slant-eyed-thinking-
hard-about-something look that Richie had become all too
familiar with.
"Oh, no. Forget I said anything. Let's just get out of here. It's a
long way to Chicago."
Looking over at Richie with a brilliant grin, Jarod thought the
next few days were certainly going to be interesting. He
wondered how he should approach Richie about expanding their
relationship. On the road there would be time to think...and
plan. Although his helmet obscured it, Jarod was again wearing
that saturnine expression that signaled victory at hand.
________________________________________
Sheriff Jimmy Brock sat in his office nursing a headache and
thinking about calling his wife Jill to see if she was free for lunch.
He had just reached for the phone when it rang under his hand.
He picked it up and snapped, "Sheriff Brock."
"Jimmy, this is Carter Pike. Can you come over to the morgue?
We seem to have lost your deceased prisoner."
Rubbing a hand over his face, Jimmy sighed. "Carter, are you
sure the guy was dead in the first place?"
"Make one little mistake and they never let you forget it... Yes,
he was dead! I don't know what happened. I was only gone for
a few minutes. I came back to start the autopsy, and the body
had disappeared. We've looked everywhere. No one saw a
thing." The coroner's voice had become progressively higher
and more defensive.
"I'll be right over." Sheriff Brock hung up the phone and
wondered why he had thought living in a small town would be
peaceful. He reached into his desk drawer for more aspirin as
his office door opened. He looked up at Deputy Lacos and
asked "What is it now, Kenny?"
"Kritschgau's truck is missing from the lot."
"Of course it is. This is Rome. What else should we expect? A
dead man got up off the coroner's table and drove off in his
truck, which we had impounded. Just great."
________________________________________
Jarod and Richie rolled into Chicago some two and a half hours
after leaving Rome. Richie turned into a McDonald's parking lot
and parked. He turned to make sure Jarod had followed then
stood and removed his helmet. He waited for the other man to
do the same then said, "Is this okay with you? I thought we
could have lunch and figure out what to do next."
"Well, we need to find some place to stay first. I don't like
carting my things around with me. Those DSA's are too
important to lose." Jarod spotted the newspaper boxes in front
of the restaurant then turned back to Rich. "You get us a couple
of papers, and I'll get lunch. You want your usual?"
"Yeah, thanks," said Richie as the two men parted ways.
Rich walked up to the counter in time to hear Jarod asking a
bewildered counter girl, "So is the toy a bribe to get the child to
eat the meal...or is it a bribe to get the parents to buy the Happy
Meal in the first place?"
The girl shrugged helplessly and shoved a loaded tray across the
counter. She spotted Richie and chirped, "Welcome to
McDonald's. Can I take your order?"
"No, I'm with him." Rich grinned.
Giving him a sympathetic smile, the girl said, "Try to have a nice
day anyway."
Jarod and Rich settled at a corner table and divided the food and
newspapers. By the time lunch was over, Jarod had decided on
his next identity, and Richie had found a room for them to rent.
After a quick call on Jarod's cell phone, they had an afternoon
appointment to talk to the landlady and look at the apartment.
They got a city map, looked up the address, and headed out to
secure their lodgings.
The apartment turned out to be two rooms above an attached
garage of a house on a quiet tree lined street. The house was a
small, but neat, white frame two-story affair with a well-kept
yard and a rose garden in back. A 60ish silver-haired lady was
sitting in a rocker on the wide front porch sipping iced tea. She
calmly watched as the two men parked their motorcycles and
walked up to the porch.
They stopped a respectful distance from the steps and Rich said,
"Mrs. Kowalski? I'm Richard Ryan. I called about the
apartment." He smiled and tried to look fluffy and harmless,
succeeding easily.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ryan." Her faintly Southern accented
voice was remarkably straight forward when she asked, "Will
your friend be sharing the apartment?" The sharp blue eyes
staring at the boys through bifocals seemed to see straight into
the furthest reaches of their souls.
Jarod shifted and smiled charmingly. "Yes, ma'am. My name is
Jarod. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Kowalski."
"Come on up here and have seat. We'll get acquainted." She
smiled that old lady smile that means an interview is about to
take place. "Iced tea?"
The two men took the offered glasses and settled into rocking
chairs that were angled slightly to face Mrs. Kowalski's.
"If you boys turn out to be serial killers, I'm going to be very
disappointed. Would you like lemon or mint? They're both
fresh."
Jarod smiled and said, "No, thank you" while Rich just stared at
her, finally shaking his head.
"I should also warn you that my nephew is a police detective. I
won't have him run a check on your names, plates, or prints
unless you give me reason. Now tell me about yourselves. Y'all
aren't from Chicago, are you?"
"No, ma'am. I grew up in Delaware, but I've traveled quite a
bit." Jarod was slightly surprised to find himself telling the truth.
"What about you, Richard? I can't really place your accent."
Rich looked at the interested lady and decided to tell the truth
also. "I'm from Washington...Seacouver. But for awhile I raced
motorcycles in Europe."
"That sounds exciting. Why did you stop?"
"Well, I...it got too dangerous. Too many close calls." Like
dying in a public race, but he didn't mention that. "It was a good
excuse to come home. My French was awful."
"I drove a race car for a while. It was sort of a favor for a
friend. You're right, Mrs. Kowalski. It was very exciting."
"Did you stop because of the danger as well?"
Jarod looked surprised at the question and replied, "No, I wasn't
needed anymore."
Mrs. Kowalski noticed a flash of sadness on Richard's face
before he turned to look out at the silent street. She wasn't quite
sure if he felt sad for Jarod or himself or something else entirely.
She decided to rent the apartment to the two men even though
she still didn't know much about them.
"I'll need the first month's rent and a two hundred dollar security
deposit. Utilities are included." She smiled sweetly. "I would
prefer cash, but that can wait until I show you the apartment."
She stood and escorted Jarod and Richie down the steps and
around to the side of the garage where a sturdy wooden
staircase led up to the apartment door.
The tour of the apartment was brief. The front room was a
combination living/dining room and kitchen with a love seat,
dinette, and the standard appliances. There was one bedroom
with a queen size bed and matching cherry dresser and one small
closet. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and included a
gorgeous old claw foot tub big enough for two.
Jarod and Rich consulted and discussed before finally deciding
to take the apartment since they wouldn't be in town for very
long anyway. They paid Mrs. Kowalski and received their keys.
As she was leaving, she told them to come around to the house
later so they could carry the TV and VCR back up to the
apartment. Fearing burglary of the empty apartment, she had
moved them out after the last tenant had left.
"If you want to get to work, I'll go get some groceries and stuff
and pick up the TV." Rich looked toward the bedroom then
back at Jarod. "We can work out sleeping arrangements later."
Jarod was already on his way to the door. "That sounds fine.
Could you get some Twinkies and Pop Tarts?"
"Dude, haven't we been together everyday for a couple of
months? I think I can remember the basics." Rich grinned as
they went down the stairs.
"Yeah," Jarod sighed and went for his computer case. He turned
to Rich who was untying his duffel bag. "Just leave your things.
I'll carry them up for you."
"Thanks. I'll be back later."
Jarod watched him go, then turned and gathered up the modest
pile of possessions.
________________________________________
Richie came back with the groceries and found Jarod at work at
the dining table. He had apparently showered and changed
clothes. Rich asked about his progress in finding Fennigor while
he put away the groceries.
"I'm getting close. Once I find the hospital, getting on staff
shouldn't be too difficult. I've done it before, just have to get the
credentials right. I might not even have to do that at all. In fact, it
might be more effective to approach him as myself."
"You amaze me sometimes. You're so matter-of-fact about the
whole pretending thing. I don't see--" Rich broke off and shook
his head feeling vaguely unsettled. "I'm gonna go see Mrs.
Kowalski now, okay?" He left quickly thinking how easily Jarod
had come to trust him during all those spars and workouts at
Mac's dojo. Rich knew that Jarod had been essentially alone
after he escaped the Centre, not unlike Richie before he met
Mac and Tessa. But Jarod seemed more desperately in need of
a friend than Richie ever was.
He walked around to the front door and rang the bell. The
landlady opened the door and asked him in. The television was
nice 20-inch model, and Rich could see he would have to come
back for the VCR. He shrugged and figured what the hell,
not like I've got anything better to do today. Aloud he
said, "Thank you, Mrs. Kowalski. I'll be right back."
He took the TV upstairs and plugged it in. It worked okay, so
he went for the VCR and found a multicolored stack of plastic
food containers on top of it. Mrs. Kowalski smiled and said, "I'll
bet you and your fella haven't been eating well lately."
Richie almost choked while she went blithely on, "I know how
young men can be, eating junk food and paying not one bit of
attention to nutrition. Well, I had some leftovers from last night's
supper--my nephew Ray and his friend Benton were over but
had to leave on some sort of police business before I could wrap
up the leftovers to send home with them." She sighed. "That Ray
is so skinny, I just know he doesn't eat enough. Benton has
been a good influence, but my nephew can be so stubborn."
She shook her head and said, "Oh, listen to me. You get on
back to your fella and just heat everything in the microwave
when you get hungry. Now I just made the cornbread, so it's
probably still warm. Oh, do you need some butter? Let me get
you some..."
Richie watched her bustle off to the kitchen feeling a little shell-
shocked. "Did she call Jarod my 'fella'?" He whispered to
himself. "Twice?"
Mrs. Kowalski came back with a small plastic butter dish and
Richie stammered out, "I'm not...well, I am but...but Jarod,
he's...he's just so--" he broke off as he felt himself start to blush.
He finally cleared his throat and said calmly, "Jarod is not my
'fella'."
"Oh. Well. Do you want him to be?" Her smile was kind, but
her eyes twinkled with mischief.
"No! Well, maybe...I don't know." He gathered up the VCR
and containers and started for the door. "Thanks for dinner.
We'll bring the dishes back tomorrow morning."
"No hurry. You just enjoy your evening, all right Richard? And
remember, safety first." She shut the door before he could reply,
which was probably just as well since he had no idea what to
say.
Walking into the apartment, he felt even more unsettled when
Jarod turned and gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.
His own smile was a little strained when he said, "Hey, what's
up?"
"I've found the hospital that Fennigor left Rome for. It's small
and very private. Getting in could be a little more difficult than I
anticipated, but I can always alter the plan somewhat. Right?"
"Riiight. Failure is not an option. You would have made a truly
terrifying terrorist." Smiling more easily, Rich set his burdens on
the counter and picked up a box to show Jarod. "Look at all
this food Mrs. Kowalski sent up. She thinks we don't eat well
enough."
He popped open a big blue one, finding fried chicken. He kept
up a running commentary of what each box held and how good it
smelled or looked. A pink one held creamed potatoes, and a
smaller pink one held thick country gravy. The yellow box
yielded white beans, and a small green one held dark green
something with bits of white and yellow. He held that one out.
"What do you think this stuff is?" He sniffed. "Whatever, I'm not
eating it."
"Some sort of greens--very nutritious, I'm sure. What's in the
aluminum foil?"
"That would be the corn bread, I guess. Here's the last box.
And we have... banana pudding. It smells good, doesn't it?" He
held the open box out to Jarod who came closer to have a sniff.
Jarod stood next to Rich and leaned forward a little for better
access. "It does smell good. Why are there cookies in pudding
and what is that white fluffy substance?" He had turned his head
to look at Rich as he spoke and now their faces were very close.
"They're vanilla wafers and..." Looking into Jarod's deep brown
eyes so closely, Richie's voice seemed to lock up so he cleared
his throat and tried again. "The white stuff is meringue, it's...you
know that stuff they put on pie." When Jarod was really focused
on someone, the effect was nearly hypnotic. The intensity of that
gaze made Rich wonder if he could look away at all. It was an
incredibly sensual, yet unsettling, sensation.
Suddenly, Jarod blinked and jerked away. He turned back to
the table where his computer sat, saying over his shoulder, "I'll
just finish up here and put everything away before dinner."
"Yeah, that's good. I'll just-- I'll go take a shower."
Jarod watched him practically run from the room and wondered
if Rich's skittishness was a good sign or a bad one. The devious
part of his mind told him it was good, because it meant Rich was
feeling the attraction too. It was also a good sign that he hadn't
left the apartment, just the room. Jarod was a little surprised that
Rich was still with him, anyway.
Jarod slumped down in his chair and started to close down the
computer. When he heard the water go on in the bathroom, he
closed his eyes and pictured a naked Rich stepping into the
shower. It proved easy enough as he had seen Rich nearly
naked several times since they had been friends. He nearly
groaned aloud as he imagined Rich's soapy hands moving over
his muscular chest with its covering of curly red hair. Next Jarod
pictured his own hands moving over Rich's chest and he
did groan aloud. He swallowed hard at the mental
image of his hands gliding even further down that water and soap
slickened body.
He was getting hard and his hands were starting to shake so he
stood up, cleaned off the table, and tried to think about
something else. He wondered if calling Sydney would help him
get his feelings sorted out. After all, he hadn't spoken to the
older man in quite awhile. It was just about time to get in touch
with Angelo, too, to find out what all was going on at the Centre.
To further distract himself, Jarod went over to connect the VCR
to the television. When he reached behind the small wooden TV
stand to find the cables and cords, his hand brushed against
something in an unexpected place. He pulled the stand away
from the wall and looked behind it. A coaxial cable snaked up
out of a small hole in the floor. Jarod plugged it into the back of
the video recorder and then plugged the power cord into the
wall. He fiddled with the cables and connections for awhile and
was pleased to find they now had cable.
Richie came out of the bathroom fully dressed with his hair
combed. Buckling on his watch, he asked Jarod if he was ready
for dinner.
"Sure. I hooked up the TV, and guess what? We have cable,"
said Jarod, leading the way to the kitchen area.
"Cool. Let's eat."
________________________________________
"You know, Mrs. Kowalski is a sweet lady and a great cook,
but she has some rather strange ideas about nutrition. Has she
never heard of fat and cholesterol?" Jarod picked up his empty
plate. "Ready for dessert?"
Rich laughed. "Maybe just a little."
The banana pudding tasted as delicious as it smelled, and the
men enjoyed more than they probably should have. Richie took
the dishes to the sink and started washing, while Jarod hunted
through drawers and cabinets for a dish towel.
They were working close together at the counter, and Jarod
noticed that Rich seemed more relaxed than he had all day. He
decided this might be a good time to discuss their relationship.
Jarod, who was a generally honest straightforward person unless
he was pretending or under suspicion, said the first thing that
came to mind. The rather blunt question, "Rich, have you
ever had sex with a man?"
Rich whipped around, staring at Jarod. "How did you-- I mean,
what kind of question is that?"
"I was just curious. I never have, but I've been thinking about it
a lot lately. Well, thinking about you actually." Intense brown
eyes bored into wide blue ones until Rich blinked and took the
towel to dry his hands. Without a word, he turned and walked
away.
Leaning against the counter, Jarod crossed his arms over his
chest as he watched Rich wander over to the television. He
watched him flip it on and off then walk over to the window.
Starting to worry about Rich's silence, he asked, "Are you okay?
I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that I have
these...feelings for you that don't fit into any category of
friendship that... What I mean is, they are very similar to feelings
I've had for women. Not just sexual attraction but more ...
emotional. I can leave if it makes you too uncomfortable."
"No!" Rich turned and looked at Jarod. "It doesn't make me
uncomfortable exactly. I'm just not sure how I feel about it--
you. I mean, I like you, and you're my friend but..." He walked
to the couch small sofa and flopped down. "I have been with
guys. It was a long time ago. But it was just playing...you know
relieving tension until the next girlfriend came along. I liked it, but
I also liked women and well...being straight was just easier, you
know?"
"Why? Why should it matter who you love?" Jarod understood
the social ramifications, but he could not see how anyone would
let society tell them how to feel.
"It doesn't matter to me. It's just that...I've had gay friends who
got beat up for it, lost jobs, had to keep it a secret... I found it
less complicated to just...focus on women. If I had the
occasional fantasy, well, that was nobody's business but my
own. Does any of this make sense?" Rich looked at Jarod who
hadn't moved. His blue eyes pleaded for understanding or some
small measure of reassurance.
"So what about Duncan and Adam? Doesn't their relationship
show that it can work? Besides you don't have a job right now,
you can hold your own in a fight, and as an Immortal you already
have to live in secrecy. It's me, isn't it?" Jarod asked sadly.
"No, didn't I say that it's not you?" Rich looked at Jarod,
standing there all sad and vulnerable, and considered his feelings
for his friend. The guy just looked so lost...like he expected to
be hurt just because. "Why don't you come over here and sit
down?"
After Jarod had settled next to him, Rich reached out and took
his hand and said, "I am attracted to you, Jarod. And I like you
a lot. I'm just not sure what I want to do about it, yet."
"May I kiss you?" Smiling, Jarod offered, "Might help you make
up your mind."
"Yeah, it just might."
Jarod's left hand remained clutched loosely in Richie's, so he
reached out with his right to stroke Rich's cheek as leaned in for
the kiss. He pressed his lips to Rich's lightly then deepened the
caress. Tilting his head for a better angle, he licked at Rich's lips
until they parted slightly. Jarod took a deeper taste and
shuddered as Rich moaned and started to kiss back.
Richie soaked up Jarod's kisses. He was surprised at the heat
shooting through him just from a kiss. Jarod may not have had a
lot of practical experience, but he had innate talent. Richie was
really getting turned on, and he felt pretty good about it. He
wondered what the hell he had been thinking to turn down Jarod
in the first place. He put his free hand around the back of
Jarod's neck and gave the kiss everything he had.
Finally Jarod sat back gasping. When he could finally both
breathe and speak, he smiled and said, "So what do you think?"
"I think we better move into the bedroom. While this may be
called a 'love seat', it's really not big enough for—"
"Love?"
"Well, fooling around anyway." Standing, he pulled Jarod up
and led him to the bedroom.
By some unspoken mutual consent, they sat on the bed and
removed their boots and socks but nothing else. They stretched
out side by side and lay back against the pillows. Surprisingly,
the change of location had cooled them off a bit.
"Rich, are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Yeah. Are you?" Rich took Jarod's hand again.
"Yes. Well, we really haven't done anything yet."
"That's true. So what do you want to do first?"
"Kissing was good. We could do that some more." Jarod rolled
over and brushed his lips lightly over Richie's. It felt so good that
Jarod did it again and again until Rich raised his head and met
Jarod's mouth with bruising force. Tongues thrust and rubbed in
a sensual tangle.
Unbuttoning Jarod's white cotton shirt with trembling fingers,
Richie shoved his hand inside. He combed his fingers through
the light covering of silky hair. When he found a nipple, he lightly
pinched until it stood at attention. He rubbed circles around the
nub until Jarod moaned. Richie released Jarod's talented mouth
so he could kiss his way down to that beautiful chest.
"May I do the same?" When Rich nodded and went back to
sucking his neck, Jarod made short work of Richie's pale blue
denim shirt. He pushed back the fabric so he could rub his
hands over the muscular planes just as he had fantasized earlier.
It was much better than he had imagined. His fingers tingled and
he fought the urge to laugh because he was afraid of offending
his partner. He brushed his fingers down Rich's sides evoking a
gasp and an evasive move.
Not realizing the potential for tickle torture, Jarod moved his
hands around to Rich's back. The skin was smooth and firm,
making Jarod long to touch every part of his friend. He wanted
to compare the myriad parts--the satiny smooth and the hair-
roughened, the firm and the soft, the bony and the muscular. He
wanted to know all of Richard Ryan, inside and out.
Richie was caught up in the moment until he felt his jeans being
unzipped. He suddenly sat up and grabbed Jarod's hands.
"Jarod. Wait just a minute. Are you sure you want to do this? I
mean, this...this could change our whole relationship..."
"I know, Rich. I want our relationship to change but, if you're
not ready, I understand." Jarod withdrew his hands and started
to button his shirt.
"I don't mean to be a tease or anything, but maybe we should
just take it slow..." Richie turned his gaze from the unexpectedly
sensual sight of Jarod covering up and continued, "You know,
this has been one hideously long day. So, why don't we go
watch some TV and cool off a little? We can decide what do
later-- using our brains instead of our hormones."
Jarod laughed and said, "That's probably the smart thing to do."
"You would know." Richie teased as he rose from the bed and
straightened his clothes. He went out to the living room and
started flipping through the channels.
"Hey, cool! The X-Files is coming on." Richie went to the
kitchen for a soda then sprawled on the couch.
Settling at the dining table, Jarod said, "The X-Files. I believe I
saw that show once. It's about FBI agents investigating alien
abductions and the like, right?"
"Oh yeah, but the best part is the conspiracy story. See, there's
this Smoking Man and these shadowy old guys..."
________________________________________
The next morning, Richie was outside working on his motorcycle
much earlier than he wanted to be. He had awakened from a
fitful sleep at six a.m.-- four hours after the end of The X-Files
marathon-- to find himself wrapped around Jarod. Both had still
been dressed in the T-shirts and boxers that they had agreed to
sleep in, but Rich had found his hand wrapped around Jarod's
hipbone--inside Jarod's underwear. He had carefully withdrawn,
then silently dressed, made a cup of instant coffee, and escaped
outside.
He finished the cleaning and polishing, then reached for his coffee
cup before starting on some other routine maintenance. There
was barely a sip left in the mug and it was cold, but he drank it
anyway. He needed all the help he could get jump-starting his
brain. He debated going to make a fresh cup but decided the
risk of waking Jarod was too great. He wasn't quite ready for
the talk he knew Jarod would insist on. He wondered if his
hesitance was based on caution or cowardice. He went back to
work still wondering.
Richie was hunkered next to his bike checking for loose wires
when a GTO pulled into the driveway. He stood up and saw a
slim blond man climb out of the driver's side. The man looked
vaguely familiar, but Richie couldn't place him. He was also
giving Richie a suspicious once over.
He walked over to stand on the other side on the bike and said,
"Nice bike. Who are you?"
"Richard Ryan. I'm renting the apartment upstairs. Who are
you?" Richie squatted back down and started checking for
loose screws and nuts, being also on the lookout for rust spots
or worn out parts.
"Ray Kowalski. I'm sure my aunt has mentioned me."
"Yeah, she thinks you're too skinny, but someone named Ben is
a good influence. Oh, yeah, you're a cop, so we better watch
our step."
Ray was just about to ask, "Who's we?" when the kid's head
snapped up a second before they heard footsteps on the stairs.
He watched as a tall dark-haired man came around the corner
eating a Twinkie, carrying an unopened pack in his hand.
"Good morning!" Jarod said cheerfully. "Would you like a
Twinkie?"
Ray stared at him for a minute then asked, "And who are you?"
"I'm Jarod. I live here. Pleased to meet you...?"
"Ray Kowalski. You live with—" he nodded at Richie "—him?"
Nodding, Jarod took another bite of his breakfast. He could tell
Kowalski was about to ask more questions and sighed with relief
when a voice called out.
"Stanley Raymond Kowalski! You better not be interrogating
my tenants." Mrs. Kowalski came rushing over to hug her
nephew. "I gave them the standard warning, but I have a good
feeling about these two young men. So you leave them alone."
"Yes, ma'am. We barely had time to exchange names."
Ducking his head, the detective glanced up at his aunt with a
charming grin.
"Yes, I know," she replied, indulgently amused. "I was watching
for you from the front window. I expected Benton to be with
you."
"He had to go to the Consulate early today. The Ice Queen had
her knickers in a twist about something or other."
"Ray, really."
"Sorry, Aunt Pearl." Kowalski straightened his spine and politely
recited, "What I meant to say was Inspector Thatcher was upset
and needed Fraser's assistance."
"That's better. Now come on in the house. Breakfast will be
ready in just a few minutes." She turned to Jarod and Richie and
said, "Have you boys eaten yet? Come and join--" Her eyes
widened as she spotted the snack cakes Jarod was trying to hide
against his leg. "You're not eating THAT for breakfast, are
you?"
"Um, I guess not. Rich and I have an appointment this morning
so, I'm sorry, but we'll have to decline your invitation."
"Well, if you're sure." She took her nephew by the arm and
went back to the house.
Richie waited until the two Kowalskis were out of earshot before
laughing. "His name is Stanley Kowalski?"
"Yes. That's what he said. What's so funny?"
"Stanley Kowalski was a character in "Streetcar Named Desire".
Marlon Brando played him in the movie version. Don't worry,
we'll rent it sometime, and you can see why it's so funny that
someone named their kid that." Rich turned back to finish his
bike inspection, asking casually, "What's this about an
appointment?"
"I have to go check out the hospital, and I thought you could
come with me. If you want to, that is. It probably wouldn't be a
good idea to let Detective Kowalski ask all those questions that
he's dying to ask."
Rich snorted and rolled his eyes. "Good point. I'm about done
here then I need to clean up. Give me about twenty minutes?"
Ripping open the Twinkie package, Jarod grinned. "No hurry.
Want a Twinkie?"
Richie held up his dirty hands and shook his head.
Jarod teasingly waved the golden snack under Richie's nose.
"Come on, Rich. You know you want to..."
Looking deep into Jarod's eyes, Rich slowly licked his lips,
parting them slightly. He leaned forward and took a bite, leaving
a trace of crème filling on his lower lip.
Stepping closer, Jarod tilted his head, watching Rich chew and
swallow. He raised one hand, murmuring, "You've got..." He
put his hand along Rich's jaw then swept his tongue over the
younger man's lips. Heart pounding, he kissed him deeply,
keeping his eyes open and focused.
Richie's eyelids fluttered shut, and he moaned slightly, returning
the caress of lips and tongue. He was drowning in Jarod and
didn't care any more.
The sound of a door slamming across the street reminded them
of where they were. They broke the kiss, but otherwise neither
man moved. They stood speechless, eyes locked.
Jarod blinked and said quietly, "That was very sweet."
Rich groaned at the pun then laughed. "Yeah, gave me a new
appreciation for Twinkies."
Blushing, Jarod shook his head. "I was serious. Does this mean
you're okay with what almost happened last night?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just about straightened out, so to speak.
I've had such bad luck with women that I don't see how a
relationship with a guy could be any worse. Did I ever tell you
about Kristen? No? How about Felicia?" He shuddered
theatrically. "Well, anyway you and I...we're already good
friends with a certain level of trust built up. Yeah, I think
we could make it work."
"We will. I haven't had much experience with close personal
relationships, but I have read some books."
"Of course, you have. Did you read any good ones?" He raised
his eyebrows and smirked. "With pictures?"
"Well, I studied the Kama Sutra, but I left my copy for Miss
Parker. And I did write a romance novel once. It had a very
limited print run that was only available through a certain adult
book store. Actually, that was for Miss Parker too."
Jarod stood lost in the thought for couple minutes until Rich
hesitantly spoke. "Sounds like you really belong with Miss
Parker instead of me."
"We have a long and complex history that both pulls us together
and tears us apart. My feelings for Miss Parker are very
complicated. A future with her would be impossible even
without her hostility and my immortality. Never think my
affections for you are some kind of substitute. I wouldn't do that
to either of us."
Richie nodded and turned to pick up his tools and cleaning
supplies. "I'll go get cleaned up now, and we can get started on
the great Fennigor search."
As they went up the stairs, Jarod said, "I'm going to make some
calls. See if Fennigor is at the hospital yet. After you left this
morning, I couldn't sleep so I got up and ran another search. I
found a possible home address but no phone number."
Rich headed off to the shower while Jarod went for his cell
phone.
________________________________________
Rich walked out of the bathroom to find Jarod sprawled in his
chair staring at the phone still clutched in his hand. "What's
wrong?"
Jarod's head snapped up and his gaze focused. "Fennigor didn't
show up at the hospital today. He's only half an hour late, so
they're not worried yet."
"But you are?"
"A little. The Centre can be ruthless. If they realize that
Fennigor is a threat to their lies, they will certainly take measures
to keep him quiet."
"You mean kill him?"
"Not necessarily, but I wouldn't rule it out completely." He
stood decisively. "Let's go check out his apartment first."
________________________________________
Fennigor's apartment was in an old three story brownstone. The
neighborhood was caught up in the early stages of urban
renewal. Several buildings stood empty and so run down they
should have been condemned, but there were just as many that
had been or were in the process of being restored to their
former glory.
Their destination was one of the nicer buildings. Jarod and
Richie strode up the steps to the entrance as if they owned the
place. Fennigor's apartment was on the second floor, and when
they got there they found the door slightly ajar. With raised
brows and a cock of the head, Jarod silently conferred with Rich
then stood to one side and cautiously pushed the door open.
Rich kept one hand on his sword but didn't draw it out yet.
Jarod slinked into the living room and softly called out, "Hello?
Mr. Fennigor?" The rooms remained silent, so he went to the
bedroom door. He glanced inside about to call out again, but his
breath caught on a gasp. He quickly turned away and bumped
into Rich who had just come up behind him.
Jarod stepped back, giving Rich a clear view into the room. He
flinched at the gruesome sight of the old man's lifeless body lying
in a tumble of blood soaked sheets. His throat had been cut
deeply to the point of near decapitation.
Rich turned to Jarod, shock in his wide-eyed gaze. "Did...did
the Centre do this?"
Shaking his head helplessly, Jarod started for the desk in the
corner of the living room. Richie caught his arm, whispering
harshly, "Are you nuts? Don't touch anything!" He started pulling
Jarod to the door. "We've gotta get outta here, NOW! Call the
police from a safe distance if you want--"
Jarod dug in his heels. "He may have information about my
family in here."
"Would he keep anything of any real value here? It's
probably hidden away somewhere. You can hunt for
information later. Now, come on."
The two men pulled the door almost shut, wiped off their prints,
and walked casually out of the building. As soon as they hit the
sidewalk, the Presence of another Immortal shivered over both
of them. Jarod looked down the street to see Max Kritschgau
leaning negligently against the stoop of an abandoned building.
When he saw he had their attention, Kritschgau raised a hand
and beckoned imperiously. Jarod stalked quickly toward the
other Immortal with his hand in his coat. Turning, Kritschgau
went up the steps and through the formerly boarded up
doorway.
Following cautiously, Jarod drew his sword as he entered the
dim interior. He deflected a blow aimed at his head then dodged
left to come up behind his opponent. His thrust was parried as
Kritschgau swung around to face him. "Why did you kill
Fennigor?"
"To get your attention." Swords clashed as the two men
skittered across the cluttered floor. The men exchanged shallow
cuts to the chest and arms, and Jarod took a hard kick to the
knee that made him stumble.
"Why me?" Jarod regained his footing, striking with a fierce two
handed swing that was deflected just inches from Kritschgau's
smirking face.
"Why not you? I like the young ones. The quickening isn't as
great but much easier to obtain." He advanced with a flurry of
blows that drove Jarod back into a pile of trash. Jarod's foot hit
a broken bottle, causing his already injured knee to twist
painfully.
Jarod fell to his good knee as Kritschgau's blade caught the hilt
of Jarod's. With a powerful jerk, the Immortal snatched Jarod's
sword from his hand. His smile was feral as he drew back his
saber to take the younger man's head. "See? Much easier."
Richie slipped through the door just in time to see Kritschgau's
arm falter on the downswing. His sword fell with a loud clatter
as Jarod pulled an impossibly long dagger from his opponent's
chest. Jarod's eyes met Rich's as he drew his arm back and
swung with his whole body. Kritschgau's body hit the floor a
few seconds after his head.
Rich backed toward the door but ran into the wall and then it
was too late to get away. The white mist was already rising as
the dead Immortal's quickening sought out his killer's. Jarod was
so caught up in his first quickening that he didn't notice the stray
tendrils reaching for Richie.
Jarod was still kneeling on the floor staring at Rich when the first
bolts hit. He threw his head back and choked out a scream as
the energy slammed into him again and again. It was pain and
pleasure, intense emotion and physical weakness. It was like
having an incredible orgasm while being run over by a train.
When it was over, he collapsed.
Rich remained splayed against the wall for several minutes trying
to gain his breath. He was tingling all over from the bits of the
quickening he had gotten. It was an incredible feeling like a
miniature quickening with none of the pain. He tried to shake it
off as he rushed to his friend's side and wrapped his arms around
him. Jarod moaned and burrowed into the embrace. Lifting him
up to a sitting position, Rich spoke soothingly in his ear.
"Come on, Jarod. Gotta get up now. Okay, buddy?" He
wiped the tears from Jarod's face. "We need to get out of here
before the cops show up. Come on babe, you hated jail.
Remember?"
"No jail." Jarod struggled up to his knees then let Rich pull him
to his feet. He staggered against Rich, who supported him for a
moment before trying to move again.
"Good trick with the extra blade. Adam?" Rich tightened his
arms around his friend, stroking and petting.
"Yeah, he told me I'd need it someday. Didn't realize it would
be so soon."
He straightened and stood on his own for a minute before
stumbling to the door still wrapped in Rich's strong arms.
They paused while Rich made sure the police hadn't arrived yet.
"Okay, the coast is clear. You have two choices. Either you're
strong enough to ride your own bike back to the apartment or
you ride with me and most likely never see your bike again."
Jarod pulled away from Rich and took a deep breath. He
ducked outside, took another deep breath, then walked down
the steps with barely a wobble. He looked at Rich and said, "I
think I'm okay to drive." Still flushed from the powerful
experience, he surreptitiously adjusted his post-quickening
erection.
Rich noticed and chuckled. "Happens every time. You deal
with it when you get home or, if you have a partner, you deal
with it together." He grinned with a suggestive glint in his eyes.
"Well, let's go then." Jarod pulled his coat over his bloody shirt
and hobbled off down the street favoring his right knee.
________________________________________
Parking their motorcycles in the driveway, they hurried up to
their apartment trying not to attract attention. Jarod had
completely healed on the ride over and was now just unbearably
aroused. He pulled Rich through the door and caught his mouth
in a scorching kiss.
Jarod tried to slow down and be gentle, but the energy coursing
through him would not allow it. He needed release,
now. Tenderness would just have to wait until control
was a more solid concept. He wanted Rich naked and
under him or over him or beside him--it didn't matter as long as
they were touching. And he did want to touch...everything, he
thought as he stripped off Rich's jacket and shirt in one move.
Turned on and desperate, Rich gasped for breath while trying to
get Jarod's clothes off. Jarod latched onto his throat, biting and
sucking as he tried to wrestle Richie's jeans down. Rich wiggled
around trying to help, but he was distracted by the heat racing
from his neck to his groin making his erection harden and throb.
His hunger for Jarod was growing unbearable and affecting his
balance. He tugged at Jarod's jeans too enthusiastically, and
both men went down in a heap.
Jarod ended up on top but quickly rolled to one side. He pulled
his jeans out of the way, flipped back on top of Rich, and began
thrusting wildly. His hard weeping erection slid and bumped
against Rich's as their hips pumped together in passionate frenzy.
Richie grabbed Jarod's head and pulled him down for a deep
rough kiss, tongues thrusting in matching rhythm.
Jarod felt the pressure building and bit down on Rich's lip as it
exploded. He groaned loudly as he came in a jetting stream
against his lover's grinding body. Rich followed him a breathless
moment later with a harsh cry.
They sprawled on the floor, exhausted but sated for the moment.
Seeing blood on Rich's mouth, Jarod reached his fingers out to
gently wipe it off the already healed lower lip.
"I hurt you. I'm sorry."
"I didn't notice." Rich smiled and sighed, "Ah, the healing
powers of Immortals." He turned to kiss Jarod lightly on the
cheek, chin, nose, and mouth.
Jarod felt desire returning to previously sated flesh and grinned.
"The recuperative powers are also quite amazing."
"Ready for another go-around, huh?" Feeling pretty ready
himself, Rich sat up to take off his boots so he could get his
pants off. Jarod followed suit and soon they were both naked,
still sitting on the floor in front of the front door.
Jarod ran his hand across his sticky belly and said, "We really
need to clean up before we do anything else."
"You know, I noticed that tub in there is pretty big. Big enough
for two, maybe?"
"Bathe together? We can do that?" Jarod was wearing that
intrigued look he got when faced with a concept that warranted
further study. "I can't wait to see what else we can do in there."
Rich leaned over and kissed him long and hard then said, "Like
they said in 'Casablanca', this is the start of a beautiful
friendship."
"Not another movie?" Pulling Rich to his feet, Jarod wrapped his
arms around his new lover. Jarod was actually happy with his
life for a change. Rich was turning out to be just what he
needed.
"Yeah, another movie. We're going to start work on
your education soon. Your real education..."
Richie knew that Jarod would be a wreck tomorrow when it
finally hit him that he had really killed a man. But he was willing
to let it wait until morning. They had the whole night ahead of
them, a new relationship, and Immortal powers of recovery.
That was more than enough for now.
The End.
This puppy took the better part of a year to get posted, so do
not expect any sequels in this millennium. Thanks for reading! ;)
Comments? let me have 'em: abink@nashville.com
